Kingdom Come
by andAshes
Summary: They were never going to be the same people they were before. And maybe that was okay, as long as Arthur could see Merlin's smile again. But Merlin leaves, Morgause attacks, and kingdoms fall. Though the title of High King has long been abandoned, it has not been forgotten.
1. Chapter 1

This is a sequel to Magician's Assistant. That story deals with suicide, so it's understandable that you wouldn't want to read it. This story can be read on it's own, it does not need Magician's Assistant to understand this one.

I don't own anything, of course.

I've also changed a few things around, like the geography, the names of the five kingdoms, and Galapas (who was from Mary Stewart's "The Crystal Cave", I've changed him a little bit in this one).

So, enjoy!

* * *

The yellow flowers were no match against the breeze. Their petals floated off the stems and twirled through the air. Then they would get caught on the armour of the knights, roughhousing on the grass. It had started as a regular training session, Arthur patrolling the ranks, before that had all been lost.

Merlin hadn't helped, with his catcalling and shouting earlier.

Some still saw their training through to the end, carrying out their tasks. Shooting at the targets and sparring. But the atmosphere was light, carefree. Laughter filled the air.

Even Gaius was outside, not quite laughing but smiling fondly at the lot of them, as though they were simply children whacking each other with toy swords. And in a way they were.

Merlin sat on the grass, next to Gaius, who had an open book on his lap and a quill in his hand. His expression was soft, fond, watching the way the armour glinted in the sun. Then there was Arthur, that brilliantly beautiful red cape fanning out behind him, his golden hair a mess, spread about his head like it were a crown made of sunlight. Merlin thought he could probably do that, craft a crown for Arthur out of the yellow sun.

He nearly did it, too, as he sat and watched. Arthur was sprawled on his back, gasping with laughter and trying to catch his breath. Then Arthur was tilting his head to the side, locking eyes with Merlin. He felt a little bit warm at the intensity of that look, and found the corner of his lips quirking in a smile.

These were the moments he craved, when Arthur looked at him like _that_, like he was someone Arthur truly cared about him, not like Merlin was simply a chore.

A stray arrow came racing towards him, then, Merlin didn't even think and the wood stopped short of him, quivering in the air. And he meant to throw it back, toss it good and deep into one of the targets. And he was just about to throw it when Arthur was suddenly on his feet. His voice carried, loud and harsh, through the yard. The atmosphere shifted, as though the sun had dulled, as Arthur shouted at the boy who had missed his target.

Merlin sagged a little bit, watching almost boredly now. Hs enjoyment had faded, as he watched the light fade from Arthur's hair as he berated the poor knight. Merlin let out a soft breath, looked to Gaius and gave him a tiny smile, before he got up.

But he knew, no matter where he went, that someone would be following him. It wouldn't take long before someone would be coming up to him, saying hello and inviting themselves along with him. So Merlin, like a well trained dog, went to find someone instead.

His mother was kneeling on the stone pathways, clearing dead leaves and petals from the rose bushes. When she saw him, she smiled and stood, putting her arms around him in a hug. "Hello." She said, squeezing the life out of him before pulling back, her hands on his cheeks.

"Hey." He replied, giving her a small smile.

"Help me with these roses," she invited, and when Merlin went to lift a hand, "no magic," she scolded. So Merlin knelt beside her and reached into the bushes to pull the dried leaves from the thorny stems. And it was nice to work like this again, use his hands for a tedious task, the repetitive motion was soothing.

He missed being Arthur's servant when he struggled to fill the hours in the day. He'd go to tidy Arthur's chambers, and Arthur would tell him that someone else would take care of it, there was no need. He missed polishing his armour, using his hands until they ached and the metal was shiny enough to see his reflection in. He had always been satisfied with his work, he had rarely done it with magic, preferring to do it by hand unless he was tired.

Even shining Arthur's boots was something he missed, and he couldn't help but notice they didn't look nearly as good as they had when Merlin had been the one to do it. But servant's duties were things that Arthur thought weren't suitable for him anymore. He was stuck in some kind of strange state, floating about in a daze while the world moved around him. He had no purpose, no job, Arthur didn't tell him anything anymore, so Merlin couldn't even offer his advice.

He yearned for it, for some kind of purpose, to be useful. Instead, he had been placed on a pedestal, too high up to get down from, protected as though he were made of glass. And maybe he was, a little bit, because he couldn't quite shake everything. He couldn't quite forget, he couldn't quite move on. He was still tied to the ground, unable to spread his wings and fly.

As he plucked dry roses from the bush, and tossed each one into the basket, he lost himself in thought. He understood why Arthur locked the door at night, why he was never alone, why Arthur needed to know where he was at all times. He really did - he had betrayed their trust, he didn't deserve it.

But at the same time, he was never alone. And it was getting difficult.

The fire was warm in the grate in Arthur's chambers, after the sun had set, Merlin wasn't even able to dress him anymore, another one of the small things he missed. He sank into the bed, into 'his side' of it, and curled up with his back to the middle. The bed dipped as Arthur got in beside him, shuffling for a moment, the blankets shifting, before he settled. Merlin tensed, waiting for it, the silence ticked by and finally, Arthur let out a breath that sounded like a sigh and rolled towards Merlin, slipping an arm around him.

He remembered those nights, only a few months ago, when Merlin had turned to Arthur and clutched at him, desperate to chase away his demons. And in those moments, Merlin believed that Arthur could battle every dark creature inside of him, that he could fight away the shadows that haunted him with each pass of his warm hand through his hair. But now it seemed like nothing more than a chore to hold Merlin like this, like it was another duty Arthur had as king and not because he truly cared. Merlin knew quite well that Arthur cared, that much was obvious, but his fear of losing Merlin again outranked his desire to care for him, love him, even.

But Merlin had never asked for anything from him, much less something like love. He had wanted to be noticed when they had all been younger, recognized, but he had not needed it. He had been happy to be the reason Arthur thrived. Something had gone sour between them, the passion that kept Arthur close had faded. Merlin had needed him so much in those moments, when he kept _thinking_ and couldn't shake the thoughts, when he wanted the world around him to just stop. And Arthur would be there, strong and solid, helping Merlin through the worst of it.

He woke up in the morning, blankets pulled up to his chin, Arthur was already up, but there was no warmth from his side anymore. He had been up for a long time. Merlin peered ahead of him, at the fire that had died down, he was cold, despite being bundled up with blankets. He craved warmth, and with a thought the fire was warm and crackling again. He closed his eyes, content with the warm glow. He almost wanted to call Arthur to him to use him as a pillow. He craved affection, as he listened to the scratch of Arthur's pen and the snap of the fire.

Maybe it had been too much to think that Arthur had romantic interest in him, perhaps it had just been his desire to help a friend.

Eventually, Merlin did haul himself from bed, getting up and dressing, before walking towards Arthur. He wanted to run his fingers from shoulder to shoulder, he wanted to taste the skin under his ear. He nearly did it too, but withheld because he wasn't so sure Arthur would respond well.

"Breakfast." Arthur said without looking up, Merlin eyed it. Another thought, it was hot and steaming again. He sat down across from him, saying nothing.

It was another day with too many hours to fill while the emptiness ticked away inside of him. Arthur, too, was stuck. Just as Merlin was. He thought about that destiny the dragon spoke about, the great and wonderful things Arthur was supposed to be doing. But if he was supposed to do these things, then why wasn't it happening?

Magic was legal, he could use it freely without worry, but nothing seemed to have changed. Where was the end to all these prophecies? Perhaps it had all been lies.

Arthur looked up at Merlin, and in that moment, Merlin thought he could see into his soul, where Arthur was just as cracked as he was. He wondered if maybe, tonight, he should curl into Arthur again, like he had, see if it changed anything.

The moment was over too soon, Arthur was getting up and motioning for Merlin to follow. So he obeyed, expression blank as they left his chambers, making their way through the corridors.

It was Lancelot, of all people, who noticed. Perhaps because he had lived through his own pain before, he knew how Merlin felt. He had been reckless and stupid with his life, so he knew the signs. They walked together outside in the late afternoon, amongst the flowers and the tall grass. Merlin shoved his hands in his pockets, quietly. "How are you doing, Merlin?" Lancelot asked, his voice smooth and kind, like the sun hanging high above them.

"I'm doing well." Merlin replied automatically.

"Good, now tell me how you are actually feeling." He probed, eyeing Merlin carefully.

Merlin stopped walking, tipping his face to the sky above, peering at the shadows of clouds. He didn't say anything for a long time, contemplating his answer. He wasn't so sure he had one.

"I would have thought," the man continued, "with magic being legal now, that everything would look different. Have you not noticed?"

So Merlin stopped, planting his feet into the grass and tried to look, tried to see. But he wasn't seeing anything, he wasn't even.. feeling anything. It felt the same as it always had. "That can't be right." Merlin murmured, looking around him intently, as if the magic would suddenly open up all around him. He had heard, that in times where magic prospered, crops were thicker, grass was greener, everything was just that much brighter. But nothing looked different, how had he not noticed it?

Lancelot was looking at Merlin when he had stopped examining the area, the knight smiled. "You are looking for something, you have not healed yet either." Merlin's belly squirmed uncomfortably, it wasn't that he was hiding it, but he wasn't so sure what to do now that he had it figured out. "You need to do what is best for you. Regardless of what anyone else says. I will support you." With that, Lancelot was bowing his head just slightly, before he was walking through the grass. Away from Merlin.

At first, Merlin didn't realize what Lancelot was doing, not until the silence of the air descended on him. He was alone. He sat in the grass, obviously Lancelot had figured it out, he had seen that he was never given a moment of silence, and here it was.

Something tight in his belly, something that had been constricting him before, seemed to loosen. It was easier to breathe, now, as he lay in the soft grasses and closed his eyes. He was smiling, because this was all he wanted. Time to be alone, time to think, time to sort himself out.

He had fallen asleep before he had come up with a solution. It couldn't have been very long, he was groggy when Arthur was shaking him awake. Merlin tried to keep his eyes open, looking up at Arthur who looked kind of wrecked. He almost reached out to him, put a hand on his face to soothe him but he didn't have the strength to. He didn't want Arthur to pull away.

"I'm sorry?" Merlin murmured, Arthur had been talking but he had been half asleep. Now that he was sitting up, he felt more awake.

"I didn't know where you were." Arthur confessed, sitting beside him. Maybe this was the breakthrough Merlin needed. "I was worried, I just can't relax if you're not around. Knowing that I could lose you again.." He broke off, staring ahead of him, not at Merlin. He understood, the last time Merlin had gone off alone Arthur had found him dead, he knew that now. He knew that he had worried him.

But how could he tell Arthur that he needed to be alone sometimes? How did he tell him that he didn't want to make Arthur so uncomfortable, unhappy, by sharing a bed with him? "Gaius still has that bed," Merlin started.

"No." Arthur interrupted, his voice the slightest bit shaky. "I couldn't lose you again." This time Merlin did reach out, he couldn't stop the urge to, his hand folded over Arthur's slowly, fingers curling to his palm. Arthur sighed softly, getting up abruptly, their hands falling apart. Merlin's hand left hanging in the air. "Let's get back inside." The other invited, Merlin closed his mouth and nodded, getting up and following his king back inside.

He couldn't understand why Arthur was so abrupt, unless he was only his friend, no more. So Merlin resigned himself, walking a few steps behind him. He had begun to feel again, slowly, the emotions that had been suffocated by pain and guilt were returning to his life now. Like the way he had felt about Arthur, those budding feelings he had tried to deny. He supposed that, while everything else had changed, Arthur still knew he was king. Regardless of how he felt, he could not have feelings for someone like Merlin.

That thought brought a spark of pain that was entirely new, it wasn't that deadened feeling, the one that left him feeling so bleak. It was active inside him, like a living thing, that stung and hurt because he cared in a way that wasn't returned. It was almost refreshing, this pain, and he cherished it. If he could hurt like this, if it wasn't killing his insides again, then he knew he could recover. For so long he had been living in a daze, unable to understand how he could fit in again. It was like the sun had broken through the clouds for the first time, like the storm had lifted.

Everything would be okay, but as they walked through the doors of Camelot, into the softly lit staircase, he felt the greyness settle back inside of him. He knew, then, that he would not heal here, he would not find what he was looking for. He had to leave.

He thought back to what Lancelot said, as they closed the door to Arthur's chambers behind them. There was a tray of food left on the table, still hot, and the two of them sat down. Lancelot had told him that he needed to do what was best for him, and perhaps now, what was best for him was to leave. He tried not to let Arthur think anything was different, but Arthur seemed to know anyway.

That night, when they slept, Merlin reached out for him first, drawing him close and pillowing his head on Arthur's shoulder. His hand began to stroke his hair, moving through it over and over. It was soothing, and if Merlin was leaving when the day broke he was going to enjoy this night with Arthur.

Merlin woke up first this time, and tucked in closer to him, tightening an arm around his waist and closing his eyes. It was peaceful, and maybe Merlin would have changed his mind about leaving if Arthur had stayed. But instead, he got up and made his way towards the table, it didn't take long for someone to knock at the door with breakfast. Merlin buried himself deeper into the comfortable blankets, rolling to where Arthur had been sleeping to soak up his warmth, to breathe in the smell of him on the pillows.

He met up with Lancelot later that day, and while Arthur was in a council meeting, he and Lancelot packed a bag. It was small, only a few changes of clothes, his magic book, little things he might need. As they were leaving, bag over his shoulder, Gwen spotted them in the halls. "Merlin? Lancelot?" She asked curiously, looking at the two of them almost suspiciously. "Where are you two off to?"

Lancelot met Merlin's gaze for a moment, Merlin gave a quick, jerky nod, and he turned to her. "Would you pack a bag of supplies, please? I am afraid Merlin and I would starve if we did it ourselves. We would not know what to pack."

She stared at them for a moment, before smiling. "Going on a trip then? What's the occasion?"

"Meet us outside," Merlin stated. "We'll tell you everything." With that, he gave her a grin. "Give us an hour."

They went to see his mother first.

"Merlin?" She asked, softly, as she saw the bag hanging at his hip.

"I can't stay here, mum." He said, walking over to her. "I promise I'll come back, but I need to leave." She frowned, but pulled his head in and kissed his forehead.

"Fine, but be safe. Write to me." She said, trusting him to return.

Gaius gave him the Eyebrow when he told him, but then he smiled and pulled Merlin gruffly into a hug. "Good boy." He praised, "you figure yourself out. It'll be good for you."

So, laden down with various salves and bandages from both Hunith and Gaius, they went outside. Guinevere was there, sitting by the steps with a bag over her shoulder. She stood when she saw the two of them. "You're leaving Merlin, aren't you?" She asked. He only nodded as she flung her arms around him. "You're not going to do anything stupid are you?" She asked, her voice muffled by his shoulder. Merlin wrapped his arms around her, knowing that he could only expect that kind of reaction, he deserved it. But it didn't make it any easier to hear.

"Come with us." Merlin invited, he could see Lancelot's shy grin. "I won't stay with you for long, but we can all go together."

She pulled away, looking between the two of them, before sighing. "Alright, I'm coming." She said, grinning. Then she paused, "have you told Arthur?"

"No. Someone will have seen the three of us, they're going to know we're going somewhere. He'll understand." Merlin wasn't so sure he would, but if he told Arthur, he would make him stay and that wasn't happening, not if he wanted to recover.

So the three of them set off, Lancelot was a little more charming than usual and he made sure Gwen walked beside him, while Merlin tagged along. He had thought, when he had died, that she and Arthur would find each other. That hadn't happened, but perhaps there was still hope left for her, if she could find Lancelot. Maybe he could play a little bit of matchmaker here.

With the towers of Camelot fading into the distance, he felt lighter with each step. Less grey inside. He walked slowly, savouring the sweet smelling air, the pattern of sunlight streaming through the leaves. Gwen's laughter in his ears, Lancelot's fond grin. He would make sure they were far enough away from Camelot before he left them, then perhaps something good could come of this. Merlin had been the one, in part, to ruin Arthur's potential romance with Gwen, though he could do little for Arthur now, he could help her.

As for Arthur, Merlin didn't know what to say. But Arthur could use time to himself, to sort himself out. Because Arthur was suffering in his own quiet way. If he wasn't around the person that had caused him so much grief, maybe he could heal? But he had written Arthur a letter, telling him he would return to him when he found himself, and that he vowed he would never take a blade to his skin.

They travelled for three days, Merlin kept using his magic to give them a little push. The root of the tree that snaked its way across the path, so Lancelot had to catch her. A falling branch (just a small one) caught a tiny scratch across Lancelot's jaw, and they stopped so she could carefully patch him up again. Merlin watched as the two of them stared deep into each other's eyes. It was that moment, after numerous little pushes, that he knew he needed to part ways from them. They would hold off until he was gone.

Satisfied, the next morning he handed Lancelot the tightly rolled parchment. "Bring this to Arthur." He said, "and tell him I truly am sorry to leave like this, I would love nothing more than to stay, but he needs this too. I'm only bringing him down now, help him see that if he can't see it on his own."

He hugged them both tightly, before taking off down the path.


	2. Chapter 2

Knowing that Merlin was with Lancelot, he felt safe. And Guinevere, too, she wouldn't let anything happen to Merlin. He trusted the both of them, he knew they would keep him safe, and that they would never do anything that would put Merlin in danger.

It stung that Merlin hadn't said anything to him, but he supposed he deserved that one. Merlin had tried to get closer to him, and Arthur wanted him to. Desperately, like a lost man craved water, he wanted to. But he couldn't, Merlin was still too fragile, too broken around the edges, Arthur knew he wouldn't be able to live up to Merlin's expectations. He couldn't give Merlin that when he was still so worried, when he still panicked when Merlin wasn't with him.

Arthur had spent three years searching for the part of him that was missing, and now he knew that part was Merlin. But he didn't quite fit anymore, the edges had frayed and Merlin couldn't quite fill it. It wasn't fair to Merlin to have him followed like this, he knew that, but he couldn't bring himself not to. His greatest fear was waking up in an empty bed with Merlin gone. It's why he woke up first, so he could memorize the sounds Merlin made when he was waking up, so if he heard it in the night he could be awake in an instant, to stop him, to bring him back.

The days were lonely without Merlin, but he seemed to get a little more done. The feeling of dread and guilt filled him, with Merlin safe but not underfoot Arthur was more productive, more useful, a better king. If he didn't spend all his time worrying, he could concentrate properly. But he still missed him.

A week had passed before they returned. Arthur was going over a few documents, bored, when Lancelot entered the room. "Sire." He said, holding a bit of paper in his hands.

"Sir Lancelot! Good to see you," Arthur was standing in a second, eager to know where Merlin was. Probably washing up after the journey. "Where is Merlin?"

Lancelot bowed his head, respectfully, and held out the paper. "He asked me to give you this." He said, voice soft. "He gives you his deepest apologies."

Dread, dark and bitter fills his chest as he takes the note, fearing for the worst. He tugs it open, nearly tearing a small piece of it in the process. He reads, and _breathed_ again.

_Arthur, _

_I know you're probably worried about me, Lancelot and Gwen returning alone and all, but I promise you I'm fine. Thank you for all you have done for me, I couldn't have survived if you hadn't been there when I needed you. But please understand that I need to leave now, I can't stay. I won't ever get better if I can't breathe. I understand why you've done what you've done, I would have done the same in your situation. There are things I have to do now, and there are things you need to do. I promise I will never turn a blade on myself, I promise I will keep surviving for you. I promise I'll return, I don't know how long it will take, but I will return. _

_Merlin_

Arthur rolled the note carefully, "how do you know he's not lying?" He asked, voice low, the idea that Merlin was alone, now, and had been for who knew how long, could mean the worst.

"Because he looked happier when we left him than he has here."

Defeated, Arthur sat down again, hiding his face in his palms for a moment, before pulling them away to peer at Lancelot. Fingers touching, mouth against his thumbs. "He will be okay?" He asked, weakly.

"Yes." Lancelot said, and he held so much confidence, Arthur couldn't believe anything else. He stood again, reached out to touch his shoulder.

"Then thank you, for taking care of him where I couldn't."

It wouldn't be easy at first, getting used to life without Merlin (but this time Merlin wasn't dead, as far as he knew, and hoped, he was alive and well), but he would manage. He knew Merlin would be okay, if nothing else his magic would keep him alive. But that didn't mean it was going to be easy, he regretted, now, pulling away from him. He had kept Merlin so far away, maybe if he had let something develop, Merlin would have stayed. But he could do nothing else, now, other than wait for his return, and try to keep living. He hadn't recovered yet from the agony that losing him had brought. And he wasn't sure how long it wood take before he became himself again, if he ever did. He couldn't be sure, not yet, but he had driven Merlin away again - this time, he wouldn't make his mistakes. And when he saw Merlin again, he wouldn't shy away from him.

Morgana had been taken from Camelot more than four years ago, none of them knew where she had gone, or if she ever would return. Long ago, they had abandoned their searches for her. Merlin had quietly confessed that he had poisoned her, that he had done it because she was the reason everyone was sleeping. He also said that she had magic, that he could have helped her, but he hadn't. Morgause had taken her away that day, and he didn't know if she had been saved or not, if an antidote had been made. Arthur remembered the way Merlin had looked so broken at that, and he wondered if she haunted him too, along with everything else that had.

He was adjusting to life without Merlin, as the days passed, it wasn't so easy, but he was beginning to get better. The harvests seemed more fruitful, the colours all around him seemed a little bit brighter. He couldn't figure out why, not really, but things were changing, he could see it and he could feel it. The air was sweeter, warmer, and he wondered if Merlin was the cause of it.

There was a hawk pecking at his window, one grey morning, months after Merlin had left, which was unusual. But as he stood, he realized it was a merlin. His heart leapt into his throat, he opened the window and the bird hopped in. Tied to its leg was a letter, he let the bird in and closed the doors, untying the letter carefully. If this bird came from his Merlin, he wasn't letting it leave until he could reply.

_Arthur, _

_I am alive and well. I miss you. _

_Prepare for war. Morgana's coming. Her army is immortal. _

_Merlin_

Arthur gaped, staring at Merlin's words intently. More than four years, now she was attacking? How did Merlin know? Why wasn't Merlin here, helping them? But he trusted Merlin, he trusted every word he said, so he began preparing. He ordered the guards to begin fortifying the outer walls, he ordered all able bodies to aid in blocking off the secret and underground entrances into Camelot. Morgana would have known them all, each and every one of them would need to be blocked. It would mean they were trapped inside of Camelot if the worst happened, but the alternative was letting Morgana into the fortress. He collected supplies, planned with Gaius on how an immortal army could be stopped.

Knights were trained harder, groups of sorcerers were practising spells together in little groups. Arthur watched them all with pride, and personally had each sorcerer fitted with shiny new armour, outfitted with the Pendragon red. When Morgana came, they would be ready.

And she did come, the colours darkened with her arrival, as if the magic she brought was tainted. It dulled everything around her. He sent a return letter to Merlin, the little bird had stuck around until Arthur had written a reply.

_Merlin,_

_She is here. _

_I miss you too._

_Arthur_

He sent the bird on its way, hoping it would not get caught in the crossfire on its way to wherever Merlin was. He spared a moment to watch its flight, wistfully, longingly wishing he could see Merlin now. But there was business to attend to - the people in the village, those that were not fighting, were sent into the solid walls of Camelot for safety, and instructed on how to leave if they did break through the walls. They had a few hours before they would be here, long enough to get everyone to safety.

Arthur was prepared, he knew quite well that magic could break through any stone walls, so he had instructed the sorcerers to learn how to strengthen them. No one could leave, and no one could enter Camelot. He had asked neighbouring villages and nobles to donate what they could spare, there was no telling how long they would be here for. If they ran out of food, they were all dead.

He was also prepared for Morgana to break in through the walls anyways, and had met with a young man named Merdic in private who had taught him how to fight against magic. It was there that he had learned that magic had a pulse, like a beating heart, and if he could wait between each pulse, he could break free. It was a slow process, and he certainly wasn't ready yet - but it would have to do. He wished, desperately, as he stood with the archers at the top of the walls, that Merlin was here with him. If Merlin were here, he would know what to do.

It took a day for her army to march to the gates, they were at a disadvantage, the woods surrounding Camelot were the perfect cover. Arthur was in his chambers when the message came, pouring over tactics, over plans. He was taking a stab in the dark here, he knew how to attack enemy walls, he had done so, but he did not know how to defend them.

"Sound the bells." Arthur instructed, rising from his chair. He tucked the helmet under his arm, cast one last glance out of the window, looking for any signs of Merlin's hawk, but saw none. So he left, marching down the halls as the bells began to ring out. He made his way outside, down the stone steps, where the knights were gathering. At the sight of their king, they snapped to attention. "Prepare yourselves!" Arthur called, "we march through the town in a half hour's time."

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Gwen. She was fretting over something, it looked like, and as he made his way towards her, as she stood before Lancelot, he saw what it was. She looked flushed, as she tied the lovely yellow cloth around Lancelot's arm. He smiled at the two of them, when she looked up.

Then she was turning to him, as Lancelot watched. "Arthur, I have something for you." She pulled a long square of fabric from the pouch on her hip, faded blue and well worn. He recognized it as he took it into his hands. "He would have wanted you to wear it, I mean, if you wanted to anyways, I wouldn't ever force you to-"

"I would wear it with honour." He interrupted, she laughed, nervous and a bit giddy. She had never been in this situation before. He held out his arm, "would you?" He asked, she bowed her head, slightly, before folding the cloth into a clean line and winding it around his arm. She tied it snugly, but not snugly enough to be too tight. The blue contrasted with the red, and with a smile he pulled her to him, kissing her forehead. "Thank you. Though I don't think he would have done it himself." He added, fondly.

But the knights were gathered now, prepared, he gave Lancelot a firm nod, and strode a few paces up the stairs, turning to the group. "Knights!" He called, silence fell, the men turned away from their ladies, their families, and stood in lines. Perfectly organized. "Today, an army marches to our doors. The people of Camelot are depending on you, we cannot lose. If we lose, then we not only lose our lives, or our homes, we lose our loved ones and our family," he paused, scanning the crowd. Families and lovers stood proudly beside them all, children and wives and grandfathers. Each and every knight had someone to fight for. "They will never break through our walls, not if we stand together. Their army is immortal, they will not die with our arrows. Save them for the living, for the sorcerers leading them. And use fire, even an immortal being will not survive if their body is burned." There were pots of cooking oil already beginning to boil, it had been a hefty amount of gold for that much oil, but fire had seemed like the best bet. Fire destroyed, though it was a huge risk, he didn't want to see the woods burn. There was, hopefully, enough distance between the armies and the trees. "Use it sparingly, only in dire situations. We do not want to burn the forest."

Arthur paused, the men held their stances, ready for battle. "Guard all entrances, you know your positions, if we stand united, we will not lose."

All at once, the men were scattering. Rushing to their posts, Arthur had personally assigned each one of them to their stations. And Arthur had his, at the front of the line. As the army came closer, made up of men and not grey creatures, as Arthur had been expecting, he stood ready. Each of them, lining the top of the walls, held their shields, ready to take on an onslaught of arrows. They were still _human_, Arthur had not been expecting that part. He had expected people who had died, who had been brought back to life. Not this.

Their first wave of arrows shot high, he tucked himself under the barrier of the wall, shield up in the air. They were so limited. "Collect the arrows!" Arthur called, because they couldn't run out, they couldn't let themselves be weakened. Archers readied their bows, firing them down at the army below. Some fell, but they got back up. Arthur aimed his to the horses, the carriage, to where Morgana was, and fired.

Clearly, the army had not thought that they would know about the attack.

The next round of arrows were lit up, bright spots of light shooting high over the walls, raining down into the town below. But they had planned for that, buckets of water collected to extinguish fires. They could spread dangerously fast, it would kill them and destroy everything.

They only had to use the heated cooking oil once, when they set up a ladder. The bucket was lit, sizzling and sparking, and dumped. It scattered, spreading across them, there were screams of pain, but it worked. And the fire did not spread to the trees. Satisfied with Camelot's newest advantage, their armies retreated.

It was strange how these things went, how two armies could camp next to each other, only attack by the daylight. But not everyone slept, someone was always awake, always guarding their post. Arthur didn't retire until late, choosing one of the tents set up near the castle itself. It was faster, easier, to get up if something happened. All was quiet, only the sound of low murmurs and the crackle of fires, dotting the grass.

The battle raged for eight long days before Morgana made a move. And it wasn't just Morgana, it was Morgause too, the one who had shown him a false vision of his mother. It had been long, difficult, Camelot's walls stood firm but they wouldn't give in, they couldn't rest. They had been battling the walls with brute force, but the sorcerer's barriers had held, Arthur couldn't have been more thankful for magic.

He wasn't sure how Morgana had made her way in, not at first, she had waited, bided her time, and with magic, had knocked out the knights guarding the barricade. They had done their best to make each entrance impassable. But with two sorcerers, the task became an easy one. It didn't stop them. But he knew, at least, that the rest of the army would not be able to file through. It would be too easy to pick them off one by one. Immortal or not, they still felt pain to some degree, they would still fall if they could no longer see, if they no longer had a head on their shoulders.

The bells were ringing, while Arthur was on the wall. "Stand your ground!" He called, leaving from the wall, climbing down the ladders, then running towards Camelot. The bells were the alert, that the enemy had entered the castle.

Arthur moved quickly, knowing that the people of Camelot would be safe, for now. Morgana wasn't here for them, she was here for.. for whatever she was here for, Arthur couldn't place it. But years had passed, years had gone by, plenty of time for her to find reasons to do this, to build an army that was beginning to wear Arthur down.

He was tired.

The magic was static in the air, he had never felt anything like it. He entered Camelot, Lancelot at his left and Percival at his right, the three of them trying to find them, so they wouldn't lose.

The main hall was the largest room in the castle, high ceilings with a long table in the centre. The three of them walked, slowly, none of the lights had been lit. The few windows cast long shadows, their footsteps echoing.

From the shadows, there was movement, Arthur lifted his sword, ready. "Oh Arthur," came a voice, playful and sharp. Morgana stepped into a stream of light, her hair pulled up off of her face, the rest of it falling in messy waves around her shoulders. It was her eyes that got to him, though, they were clearer than he remembered them. Bluer, greener, unusual, like the natural colour was bleeding to white. "Do you really think you can stop me with a sword?" She asked, mocking him.

"What are you doing here, Morgana?" A part of him was aching to see her like this, so changed. She had lost her elegance, the poise and allure she once had. Instead, she was grossly arrogant, holding herself high with her nose in the air.

"I'm only here for what I'm entitled to." She said, as if it were that simple. "I am a Pendragon, I have every right to be here."

"You're.."

"Did Uther never tell you? He slept with my mother, and, here I am." Her lips, painted red, curved into a smile. "And I'm here for what I'm owed."

"Why are you doing this?"

"Because Uther would have burned me." Her voice dipped lower, nearly a snarl, standing fierce and strong. Arthur still had his sword pointed at her. "As would you."

"Magic is legal, Morgana. I would never-"

"Don't lie to me!" She growled, taking a step forwards, Arthur held his sword point higher. Something about this didn't add up, something about the way she held herself wasn't natural.

"I'm not lying." He insisted, taking a step closer. Perhaps there would be no need to fight, perhaps he could talk to her. He just didn't understand all of this. "Listen to me, I wouldn't harm you. I would never burn you." And, thinking back on it, he knew he wouldn't have. The two of them had always been close, if they did squabble sometimes. She was good at pointing out his flaws, and telling him how to be _better_, but he had been a coward, he hadn't stood up for her as often as he should have.

"No!" Her voice was loud in the quiet of the room, throwing out a hand. The magic that swirled across her eyes looked so strange, Arthur was thrown backwards across the room. The sword scratching across the floor. He landed, hard, winded and dazed before he was picking himself up again. Lancelot and Percival were advancing, he hadn't been able to get through to her.

There was something there, something in her eyes, if he pushed, just a little more, maybe. Just maybe. It was half a hope, barely even a chance, but it was all he had. There was still Morgause, who could have been in the room somewhere, watching from the sidelines, waiting for her moment.

Lancelot was thrown against a wall, Percival was tossed across the room, where the light from the windows failed to reach. Arthur got to his feet. "Listen to me, Morgana! This isn't you! I know you, and I know you believe me." She stood with one hand held out, ready to throw him back. He was going to take his sliver of a chance, and he was going to run with it as far as he could. He had no hope, fighting against her. So perhaps his words would do better - something he had learned from Merlin many years ago. Merlin, who could change Arthur's mind with only a few words. Who could calm him, enrage him, with just a little bit of talking.

But what were the words he needed to speak? This girl wasn't the Morgana he had known all his life. He kept walking towards her, and as he got closer, he could see the tremble in her hand. "Uther is dead, If you have trouble with him, he's gone now. I am not my father, I've made magic legal." And he remembered that day, clearly, how it began to rain after he had made the announcement, the pale sunlight and the voice in the rain, calling to him. The day Merlin returned.

"You've been hurt." He said, he could see that. He could piece the picture together, little by little, Merlin had said that he knew she had magic, and that she must have been so afraid, so scared of what she was becoming. He could see it now, clearer than he had before. "And I'm sorry, I can't change what happened." He was getting closer to her now, she wasn't directing any more magic towards him, she was shaking and her eyes were wide. A small bubble of elation rose in him, it was working. "Camelot no longer prosecutes sorcerers. You'd be safe here, you could do whatever you'd like. You could practise, any time, I promise you."

He was so close to her now, her hand was dropping, her eyes seemed less bright, a little more normal, he reached out a hand. She hadn't stepped back, only stared at him, breathing heavily. "Morgana, please, you don't need to do this."

There was a roar of rage, Arthur was sent flying across the room. The table in the centre of it cracked under his weight, splintering, Morgause looked panicked, stepping out from the shadows. "Kill him" She instructed, looking at Morgana. Morgana blinked, and the stranger was back in her place, her lips forming strange words, sending a fireball in his direction. He was barely able to roll behind the broken table, but he still felt the heat of it. Percival was beside him, then, thrusting his sword into his hands. But where was Lancelot? Percival was pushing one end of the table up, to protect them from the blasts that lit up the room. He could see Lancelot, still slumped against the wall, and felt a prang of sadness.

Until he saw the man lift his head, just slightly, and smile, eyes cracked open. Arthur grinned, mouthed 'Morgause', and emerged from behind the table. Morgana eyed him, while Morgause kept her eye on Percival. Believing that Lancelot was out of commission would be their advantage, if he could just keep talking to Morgana - he could get her back. That was the hope that spurred him on, as she mouthed words to send more blasts of fire his way. He forcefully kept his eyes on Morgana, not on Lancelot, who was up and moving slowly towards Morgause. Don't give anything away, keep moving, keep dodging, get closer to Morgana.

The table was on fire behind him, giving the hall enough light to see them clearly.

It happened all at once, Lancelot pierced through Morgause's armour with a thin dagger, and in one quick movement he was shoving the leather glove he had taken off one of his hands into her mouth, dragging her to the ground and pinning her there. Guinevere's colours wrapped around her wrists, securing her. Then Arthur was moving to Morgana, grasping her hands tightly. "Listen to me." He said, quickly, before she had time to react. "This isn't what you're meant to do, you're better than this. I need you, I need your help, we all do. Whatever Uther's done to you will never be my own actions, I am my own man. And if he was our father, that makes us kin." He could hear Morgause thrashing next to them, trying to escape. Morgana sent a frightful look at her. "Listen," he said, soothingly, wishing he had Merlin's way with words. "Join me, use your magic for good. Fight with me, not against me. You're my sister." He hesitated for a moment, staring into her eyes, still so strange. "I care about you."

Morgana's head tilted back, drawing in a ragged breath, as if breathing for the first time. A bright flash of white light lit the room, nearly blinded him, and her body went limp. Worry shot through him, as he lowered her to the ground. He pressed two fingers under her jaw, searching for a pulse.

Morgause was pulling against her binds, unable to pry herself away from the knights who held her. "Take her away." Arthur instructed, "and send Gaius to me."

But Morgause was a sorcerer, in the end, and not every sorcerer needed words to get away. Her eyes glowed as a wind kicked up around them. Her body began to disappear, curling into little ringlets of black smoke. Then, she was gone, left grasping at the empty air. Lancelot's hand curled around Guinevere's colours, the glove on the ground. The two of them nodded, and left quickly to fetch Gaius, to check the status of the wall an the army that had been battering away at it.

Morgana stirred in his arms, groaning in pain. When her eyes blinked open, they looked normal again. Not too bright, not tinged with white, the familiar hazel. He sighed with relief as she stared up at him in confusion for a long moment. "I.." She started, "I'm sorry."

He grinned, as she tried to sit up, one hand on her head. "You're back," Arthur said, fondly, "that's all that matters." It meant that the army would retreat, or at least he hoped. Morgause had escaped, but half the battle was over.

"I tried.. how could I..?" She was shaking, "Morgause.. I trusted her, she said she would.. I was so angry, I didn't even notice." She turned to look at Arthur, her eyes a little wet. "I was enchanted." Her eyes turned fierce, she stood up and Arthur followed, catching her as she swayed.

"Careful, Gaius will be with us soon."

And he was, it didn't take long for him to arrive, after Morgana had been led to one of the chairs. "Get some rest." He instructed, "the spell's been broken, but there might be lingering effects. If you sleep it off, you should be fine."

Morgana brought up her hand, the bracelet that Morgause had given her was cracked down the middle, it had given her piece of mind but it had also helped keep the spell in place. She removed it, slowly, "will my nightmares come back?"

Gaius frowned, "you are a Seer, they aren't nightmares, I believe they are visions of the future. You can control them, with practice. Come with me. Arthur, join us later, for now you have other duties to attend to." Like the army at the gates, Arthur nodded solemnly.

He escorted Gaius and Morgana out of the room, leaving the two of them to Gaius' chambers, and made his way back outside. Lancelot met him, his grin shining brightly. "Morgause only went outside." He said. "She's leading the army away. We've won, Arthur."

Beaming, the two of them made their way to the wall, to watch the army's retreat. They had done it, they had won, and they wouldn't have been able to do it if it hadn't been for Merlin's warning.

They didn't take everything down just yet, in case it was a false escape, but the people were able to return to their homes. Everything was going smoothly, the sun beginning to set, when Arthur found his way to Gaius again, dressed comfortably.

Morgana was meditating, when he arrived, but she opened her eyes at his arrival. She looked calmed now, "Gaius won't tell me where Merlin is." She said, unfolding her legs to stand up, "he said you would be able to tell me."

"He isn't with us." He said, softly.

"You mean he's-?"

"No, he's alive. He told me about the army, it's why I was able to prepare properly, so you couldn't get in."

"Then where is he?"

"I don't know."

She frowned, "that's unlike him."

"There was.." Arthur paused, sighing, and sat down at the table. "About four years ago, Merlin took his own life." He confessed, Morgana's eyes widened. "When Uther passed, I heard a voice in the rain. She led me to a lake, there, she gave me a choice. She told me that I could bring Merlin back to life, or I could let him rest. I wanted to bring him back."

"You missed him." Her voice was soft, kind.

"I did. But knowing that he had been suffering, that bringing him back would make him feel everything again.. I couldn't do it. I chose to let him rest. But he came back, anyways, the dragon flew him in. The girl in the lake, she said that Uther's life had been traded for Merlin's, and I think she only gave me the choice so I could help him. So I knew that Merlin wasn't happy."

He paused for breath, Gaius watching sadly. "I kept him within sight at all times," he sighed, "so I could make sure he wouldn't go do it again. But I think he felt trapped, he left a few months ago, to find himself, I guess. So he could get better on his own. He promised he would return."

At that moment, there was a sharp tap against the window. The three of them turned to look at the shape of an owl against the window. Cautiously, Arthur rose to open it, knowing Merlin had used a bird to deliver messages. When he opened the window, the bird soared in, a great big thing, white with dark brown dusted under the feathers. It didn't carry a letter of any kind, Arthur stared curiously.

"You, Arthur Pendragon, are a difficult man to find." The bird spoke, settling on the table. Fluffing up his feathers as if insulted. The three of them gaped at the talking owl. "Now, Merlin has a message for you." He said, Arthur snapped to attention.

"Merlin has a talking owl." Gaius said softly, "I shouldn't be surprised."

"It's Archimedes to you." The owl fluffed, puffing up his feathers. Arthur, amused, sat down at the table.

"A message from Merlin?" He prompted.

"Oh, yes, right. He said that you need to move your army to Nemeth."

"To Nemeth, why?"

The bird huffed, feathers poofing again. It was an irritable thing, it was a wonder Merlin hadn't kicked it. "I'm getting there." He calmed himself, ruffling his feathers and standing up straighter. "He said that that's where you need to be. Morgause will be moving fast, so Merlin is rounding up the five kingdoms, so you can all attack the immortal humans at the same time. He also said you would be leading them, Arthur, but he didn't tell me to say that."

Arthur felt a bit warm at the words - that was a lot of people.

"The whole army will fall if the cup of life is destroyed." Morgana said, then, "For four years.. we collected blood from whoever would come across us. Morgause used a lot of dark magic, brought.. shells of people back." So some, thought Arthur, would die as any normal men. "They weren't right, they had no memories, not unless we put them in." She went a little quiet at the thought. "The blood went into the cup, but it won't spill if it's just knocked over. It needs magic."

Archimedes, finally, looked pleased. Just how an owl could look pleased, Arthur couldn't understand. "Good, good, he'll meet you at Nemeth, then, and he'll bring the sword. Now, I'm hungry."

Just like that, the conversation was over, Archimedes was more interested in dinner than talking. And, after they had all eaten, Arthur retreated to his chambers. Reports had been written up, finalizing everything, confirming that the army was not returning, and the papers would be left on his desk. Tomorrow he would help take down their defences. For tonight, he had a curiously grumpy owl perched on his shoulder.

Archimedes was a bit bigger than the hawk Merlin had sent before. And as he spoke, chattering on about something Arthur had lost track of shortly after leaving Gaius' chambers, he kept moving about, cuffing Arthur with his wings at almost every step.

It was a relief when he got to his room, where he was barely able to duck his head before the bird was spreading his wings and fluttering across the room, perching on the back of his chair. "If I write a note, will you take it to Merlin?"

"That would be an insult. I can speak you know." He huffed.

"I'd rather write to him," Arthur admitted, as he sat down and began to sort through the papers. "He's important to me." The bird heaved a sigh.

"Fine, fine, have it your way then. Write your bloody note." Arthur found himself grinning, a little bit, as he began to work through the papers. Everything had gone smoothly, there were no casualties and a few injuries. Hunith's list was full of minor injuries, very few severe ones. He had done well, he thought.

Later, he left the fire going and slid into bed, falling asleep to the sound of Archimedes grooming himself. His bed was soft, comfortable, a bit too empty but better than the tent. Unfortunately, he wasn't able to catch an extra hour of sleep, because there was a small yelp at the door and the clatter of dishes all over the floor. With a groan, he got up and shooed Archimedes from the spilled food on the floor. "You're a talking _bird_ and you're eating off of the floor, really now, and scaring poor serving boys? He was just trying to bring along breakfast." He scolded, amused, as the serving boy looked absolutely terrified as he cleaned the plates from the floor. "Don't worry about the feather duster." He said warmly to him, kneeling to grab one of the plates nearest him. "When you come back, just knock, I'll make sure he stays out of your way." He gave the boy a small smile, before he was scurrying off. His mother waited in the hall, he saw, about to scold him before Arthur gave her a smile. The boy was being taught, he had to make sure they weren't scolded when it was no fault of their own. He had approved it, he remembered, because he remembered being a brute to servants.

Then Merlin came along and changed everything. And after his father's death, he had agreed to let the young ones serve him, so they could learn, so Merlin would have less to worry about.

He ignored Archimedes' complaints, going about getting dressed and prepared for the day. The boy arrived with breakfast later, knocking on the door. Arthur shot the owl a look before opening it, thanking him, and sending him on his way. After they had eaten, Arthur setting aside scraps of meat for him, he pulled a sheet of paper towards him.

"Take this to Merlin, tell him I'm on my way." He instructed, and grudgingly, Archimedes allowed Arthur to tie the paper to his leg. "Off with you then, before you terrorize the whole castle."

"See if I ever let you give me a note again." The bird grumbled, perched on the window, as he spread his wings.

"Go on." Arthur said, almost fondly. It wouldn't be long now, before he was going to be able to see Merlin again.

_Merlin_

_I look forward to seeing your smile. Thank you, for everything you have done for me. Without you, Camelot would have fallen. _


	3. Chapter 3

Merlin walked for a long time. He walked until his feet ached, after the sun set, then he just kept going. He didn't know where he was going, or what he was searching for, but he would know it when he saw it. Wherever it was, whatever it was. So he just kept walking until he couldn't walk anymore. It was early morning by then, the sun just beginning to rise.

It was pale blue along the horizon, birds fluttering across the sky, chirping loudly, he was tired. But all his walking had led him to the mouth of a cave, nestled amongst trees and hidden behind a curtain of vines. The grass outside of it seemed bright, even in the dull blue light of the morning. It would provide enough shelter for a few hour's rest, then he could continue on.

He stepped towards it, slowly, parting the vines with his hands - soft against his palms - as he went in. It was dark inside, a narrow path that he travelled, fingertips running along the walls to keep him going straight. It opened up after a few steps to a wide cavern, but what was inside was stunning, beautiful, and thrumming steadily with magic.

The crystals glowed blue along the floor, the walls, dripping from the ceiling. There was a small pool of light shining in from the ceiling, but as he stepped forwards, deeper into the cavern, there was movement above him. Bats, stirred from their sleep, swept from the cave in fear. He watched them, the light vanishing as their bodies clogged the light at the top. He stared in wonder, taking in the sights.

They were the purest blue he had ever seen, clear and bright, he could see his reflection in them. He knelt before a cluster of them, reaching out to touch the smooth crystal.

"What are you doing here?" Came a voice, Merlin jumped, falling to his bum and scooting backwards. An old man stood by the entrance of the cave, he had to have been at least twenty years older than Gaius, if not more. He was hunched, long white hair, wrinkles embedded deep in his marred skin. Weathered by age and his years, but his eyes were still bright.

"Nothing!" Merlin yelped, pulling himself to his feet and hoping to avoid a fight, he was too tired for that. "I'm Merlin, I just hoped to get some rest out of the way, so I didn't have to sleep out in the open. I promise, that's all I'm here for."

"Merlin?" The man murmured. "Is it really you, already?" His voice was frail, softer now that he wasn't stumbling across an intruder. "Well, well, come on then. You've got a lot to learn and not much time to do it in."

Confused, and painfully curious, Merlin followed as the man led him back outside into the air, down the patch of bright green grass and down the little hill. Merlin didn't even see the house at first, until the the man reached out and opened the door. Shocked, Merlin followed him inside.

The shelves were loaded with interesting things Merlin longed to poke at, glass vials, bowls of dried herbs, candles, feathers, pages and books. There was a small fire in the centre of the room, a cooking pot hovering over top of it. It smelled lovely. But clearly, he could feel the magic in the room. It was deep, and it was powerful. "Go on, sit down. I wasn't expecting you so soon."

"You were expecting me?" Merlin asked, as he took a seat in one of the well worn wooden chairs, folding his hands in his lap.

"You are Emrys, are you not?" He asked, smiling, as he grabbed two clay bowls from one of the shelves. He set them down on the small table, and quietly, the pot floated towards them, a ladle spooning servings of the stew into each bowl.

"I've heard that name." He replied, a little bored with all this Emrys talk. He wasn't anything great, once he had believed it. Not anymore. Not now.

"Good. Now, eat up and sleep. We start when you wake."

"What do we start?" He asked, curious.

"The beginning of your destiny, surely you've heard some of it?"

"Er, some, yeah." He muttered, vaguely, palming the warm bowl, barely bigger than a cup.

"Then you know it's always changing. Did you know, three years ago I saw your King's death? Camlann, I think it was." Merlin froze, something cold slipping down his spine at the thought. "But, enough of that. Go on, eat, it's not poisoned."

So Merlin ate, and was shooed off to the corner of the room to sleep. He pulled the blanket from the bag on his shoulder, curling up on top of a pile of them and falling asleep quickly.

He woke up rested, as though he never needed to sleep again. He was alone in the room, darkened now, the shadows and shapes of the table almost comforting. He relaxed deeper into the pile of blankets, comfortable, until he started thinking about where he was, and what the elderly man had told him.

His eyes widened and he shot up in bed, the old man had told him about Camlann, the place where Arthur would die. A cold chill sank into him, he needed, desperately, to find out what that meant. Was Arthur going to die?

He got up quickly, the blanket folding itself behind him as he exited the cosy little home, where the fire kept burning merrily in the centre of the room. It was evening, he hadn't slept for very long, the sky was just beginning to turn blue. He walked up the slope towards the cave, and spotted the old man sitting in the middle of the patch of bright green grass at the mouth of it. When Merlin arrived, he opened his eyes.

Quietly, Arthur sat down across from him, sitting the same way the other ones, his hands resting on his knees. "You mentioned Arthur's death." Merlin said, softly.

"The power of Sight is not absolute." The man's eyes were closed again.

"So Arthur won't die?" He asked, just because Merlin had died and lived again, didn't mean that Arthur had the same ability.

"Every man must die."

There was silence, Merlin closed his eyes and listened carefully to it. All around him, there was magic. He could _feel _it, in every breath he took. The world vibrated, and the longer he concentrated the more potent it became.

When he opened his eyes, night had fallen. The old man was watching him, smiling just a little bit. "Who are you?" Merlin asked, softly.

"Galapas." The man said, voice gentle. "Now, come on, I have something to show you." He stood up, slowly, as though his bones ached. Merlin stood too, and followed him inside the cave. The crystals still glowed, brightly, as they made their way deeper. They went to the back of it, Galapas running his gnarled hands across the stone until he was side stepping into a small gap. Merlin followed. It was darker in there, lit by a soft blue glow.

They kept walking, deeper and deeper underground, until it opened up wide. Everything felt so still, but the air was thick. Like the magic in the air was concentrated. There was a pool of water, inky black and still as the stone around them, that stretched into the darkness. "Tell me what you see." The man said, indicating to the pool.

Merlin knelt in front of it, bending his head to peer into it. All he saw was darkness, the shadow of his own reflection. He sat up, disappointed, "nothing." He replied, softly.

"You will soon." He said, then they were heaving back to the cave. The light of the crystals seemed brighter now. "Sit down, and feel it." After Merlin had sat, the stone cool and hard under him, he continued. "The earth, and everything that lives, is connected. You, and I, and the ancient magic even older than the Old Religion. There was a time that the Old Religion was new, when magic became used by the common man. Before that, only the most powerful could use it. Only those who had studied for a lifetime were able to harness the power, or they would be overwhelmed, they would burn."

Merlin closed his eyes, listening and feeling. And he could feel it, the harder he thought, the trees just outside, the grass that grew and the family of squirrels scurrying about in their dens. "Relax, boy, you won't get it if you push. Let the magic come to you."

So Merlin relaxed, tried not to force it. He only felt the vibrating of the air, the place around him. Not anything else, so he tried to open his mind to it, to let it come.

The rush of it hit him hard, he sucked in a breath and opened his eyes, shocked.

The man was smiling, his arms folded over his chest. "Keep going. You would learn it all with age, but I'm afraid I do not have that long."

So Merlin took a breath, closed his eyes and tried to open himself up, just a little bit. And slowly, it came to him, each single blade of grass, quivering in the breeze, sang to him. He could feel the pure age of the trees, the way they stood so strong, hundreds of years old, its leaves spread to the sky above. There was the dirt, the worms buried under it, still and steady and firm.

When he opened his eyes, his body felt in sync with it, Galapas was gone, so Merlin stood on shaky legs and made his way outside. The sun was high in the sky, far too bright after being in the cave for so long.

Each morning, Galapas led Merlin down to the pool to look into it. Each day, Merlin saw nothing, and was told to sit in the cave and just listen. But, little by little, Merlin began to understand it, he began to feel it outside of the cave, when he woke up in the morning, before he went to bed. He was becoming connected, he knew, to the world. His magic was tying itself to it, he wondered if this was the ancient magic, that Galapas had spoken of. He wondered if that's what he was learning, but he didn't ask.

Three months moved on, slowly, and Merlin kept learning. He felt older, somehow, as he learned. His magic came easier, now, he barely even had to place a thought into it. It just happened around him.

Galapas was sitting out in the grass, one morning, "there's a merlin." He said, confused, Merlin sat in front of him. "It's in the trees down the hill. It's caught on something. See if you can feel it."

He sensed it right away - a spark of life, struggling to break free from what had caught it. He could almost feel the vibrations, the cries of pain, as it struggled. Merlin was jumping to his feet, breaking his daze, to rush down the hill to find it.

The hawk was caught, its wing trapped under the branch that had fallen. Its talons dug deep into the earth, catching on roots. Merlin knelt beside it, as it pulled away from him, fearful. "Hush." Merlin said, softly, reaching out to it, moving slow so it wouldn't start thrashing. He grabbed the bird's legs, carefully unwinding them from the roots. The hawk was very still, probably terrified.

When the feet were free, he went about moving the branch. When he did, the bird hopped free, its wing dragging. Galapas came up behind him. "How are your healing abilities?" He asked, voice soft.

"I haven't done much." He admitted.

"Try it now. Those bones are broken, touch it, and feel it. If you imagine the wing as whole again, it will heal."

So he did, he scooped the bird into his lap, stroking his feathers kindly, before he placed one hand on the wing. He could feel the heat coming from it, the bird flinched at Merlin's touch, he hushed it again.

He concentrated on the hollow bones, he could feel where the bones had been crushed, he could feel the pain of it. It was dull, he was only feeling the echo of it. When he pictured the wing, how it should be, it began to shift.

In only a moment, the wing was healed. The bird fluffed its feathers and hopped onto the ground. "Animals are very sensitive to magic users. They recognize you."

So Merlin saw the bird often, who would sometimes bring Merlin a dead mouse, which it dropped at Merlin's feet. He began to wonder if he could use it to send Arthur a letter, or something, anything. He missed Arthur more and more every day.

He was sitting on the grass, peering at the sky. He wondered if he could sense Arthur from here. There was so much distance between them, it could be impossible, but he could try. So he let his eyes close, listened to the pulse of life around him, and tried to stretch it towards Camelot. He could feel the path, his magic winding its way through the trees and rivers and caves towards Camelot. Towards Arthur. Each time his magic sensed a person, it was like a bright flash of light in his mind of different colours. He wondered what Arthur's would be.

His head began to spin as it moved further and further away from him, it began to ache the further it went. But he couldn't stop, not now, he was so close.

"Merlin!" He awoke with a startled gasp, staring up at Galapas, the ache behind his eyes fiercer than before. "Don't exert yourself like this." The man scolded, "you may be powerful but even you have limits. You need to train yourself, first."

Merlin sat up, hand on his head, feeling foolish. He wouldn't admit he missed Arthur, not to this man who was alone, who had either lost loved ones or never had any. The pain in his head began to fade, he wondered what might have happened if he had kept going, kept pushing. It might not have been good.

So that's what he tried next, tried to slowly let the distance come closer to him, tried to feel further and further out. He experienced rivers, the rich flow of them. He liked the way rivers felt, so natural and cool and powerful. All the smooth stones at the bottom, the fish that swam. There was so much life, everywhere.

And one day, when Galapas led him into the cave, he bent over the pool and rather than looking at it, he let the magic look into him. It flowed slowly, thickly, and when he opened his eyes he saw the reflections. Morgause lifting her hand, deflecting an arrow away from her. Arthur shouting orders from the top of Camelot's wall. The army, vast and numerous, marching along the road. Morgana sending Arthur's body cracking through a table.

He pulled away, quickly, looking at Galapas fearfully. "I have to tell him." He choked, getting unsteadily to his feet. "I have to get back to Camelot." He was already sliding through the narrow pathway, through the crystal cave and out onto the grass.

"Merlin." Galapas said, voice firm. "You are not done yet. You have much more important things to worry about. You need to master the power of Sight, I am not long for this world."

Merlin stopped, turning to him slowly. He hadn't even thought of the possibility. The man was old, and frail, but Merlin had never thought that about his mortality. "How do I tell him?"

"That merlin of yours should do the trick. Call him, he'll come to you."

He exhaled, trying to calm himself down before he walked down to the hut, a sheet of paper floating to the table. A quill was writing out the message while Merlin rummaged around for a bit of string to secure it.

He wandered to it, examining what had been written and scoffed, flushing a little bit. He certainly didn't mean to write that. "No, that's not right at all." He said, plucking the quill from the page and settling down with a fresh piece, carefully writing the words. He didn't write much, just enough to tell him what to do. He could only hope that Arthur would prepare, that Arthur would live.

When he went outside, the bird was waiting for him. "Can you deliver this for me?" He asked, voice soft. The bird fluttered down to perch on a low branch, Merlin stepped forwards.

He secured the note, carefully, making sure it wouldn't fall off. The merlin crawled onto his arm, his talons a bit too sharp for comfort. "You're taking this to Arthur." He said, and placed his hand over the hawk's breast, concentrating on Arthur, on what he looked like and where he would be. "Don't return until he replies." He said, his eyes burning gold as he rose his arm to the sky, the merlin spread his wings and flew.

Galapas gave him a nod. "Treat them well, and they will reward you in return. You saved him, he will deliver your message then he will move on. His debt will be repaid."

Merlin let himself smile, suddenly confident that Arthur wouldn't die.

A few weeks later, after worrying and pacing the cave, the merlin returned. Arthur's smooth handwriting was a pleasant sight, as he unrolled the paper. Arthur would be fine, he knew how to lead his own army, he would be fine.

So Merlin was able to relax, able to sink back into his studies, and the ancient power of the earth. It was almost frightening, how much he had changed. He only had to want, and magic would respond. He could no longer tell if it was the magic within him or the magic all around him. He was connected, he was at _peace_.

The images no longer haunted him, and he wasn't sure when that had happened - only that it had. And he could think, now, about the things he had done. The mistakes he had made were in the past, he no longer lived in them.

Galapas sat down with him the night that the hawk had brought Arthur's reply. "The five kingdoms are fragmented." He said, softly. "They need to be reunited, they need to be brought together again. Just as the kingdoms are in pieces, so is magic. Uther's purge did nothing but harm. My time is nearing its end, you need to master the power of Sight."

But instead of taking him into the quiet underground pool, he showed Merlin how to transport himself. Others had used dark magic to do it, swirling with blackness that transported them from one place to another. He understood now, why Galapas had stopped him from straying too far with his magic.

He mastered the movement on the first try, he only needed to feel it, where he wanted to go, the world all around him in that spot, and he would be there. It was effortless, Galapas was pleased.

Galapas had him sit on the grass, and think forwards. Not behind him, not dreams or memories, but free his mind from everything, and only sense the steady ticking of time, steadily moving forwards. He wasn't able to wrap his head around it at first, too distracted by the thrumming of magic and the twittering little bird at the corner of his mind, high in one of the trees.

When he finally was able to clear his mind, he closed his eyes and saw the high stone walls of a kingdom, a woman with long dark hair, pale skin, Arthur kissing her knuckles. He had never been there before but he knew where it was, he knew what was happening. The colours of five kingdoms, five armies, a thousand men, stood in rows. Banners, flags, held high into the cloudy sky. And Arthur, sword in his hand, but not his usual one, the one that the dragon had helped create.

When he opened his eyes, he was confused. "Why Nemeth?" He asked, softly.

Galapas smiled, there was a weariness in his eyes now. "Because that is where the final battle is. That is where Arthur steps into his destiny. But only if you are able to complete your half."

Galapas died three days later.

He had called Merlin to him, as he lay on the grass early in the pale morning. In his hand he held a ring, and quietly placed it into Merlin's palm. It twanged with a weird kind of magic he didn't understand, or recognize. "What is this?"

"It is the seal of the High King."

"But why do you have it?" Merlin asked, peering at the ring, the pale tarnished gold that glimmered faintly.

The man chuckled, his breath coming slow. "Because I am the current High King."

Shocked, Merlin stared hard at him. "But shouldn't kings be in castles? Not hiding away in a forest."

"Long ago, many generations before I was born, the ancients crafted a ring. He who wore it was High King. It bears the crest of the dragon, from the first king. The title cannot be stolen, or taken, it can only be given to a man worthy of the title."

"Why are you giving it to me?"

"Because you are to deliver it."

"To who?" He asked, voice soft.

"Uther Pendragon tried to take it from me. But the ring only turned to ash in his hands. He was unable to take it. But in that moment, I Saw the man who would become king. So I went into hiding. All this time, Merlin, I have been waiting for you. When the Vision shifted, I thought I would never see you. I thought I would die, and the kingdoms would be doomed to fail." The man smiled, looking at Merlin almost fondly. "But then you came, and I had hope again."

Merlin's eyes felt wet, he wasn't so sure he was ready for all of this, he wasn't even sure what he was supposed to do. "What do I do?" He asked, voice trembling.

"You deliver the ring to Arthur. No one else but him is worthy, you will know when the time is right."

"Arthur..? High King?" He asked, the man only nodded, and closed his eyes. Merlin sat with him until he let out his last breath, until the light inside of him faded. "Thank you, Galapas." He said, softly. He didn't fight the tears that slid down his cheeks as he stood, taking a few steps back. With a word, a thought, little stems began to grow around him, and soon, began to stretch into the sky. His body provided it life, it grew taller than any other tree, spurred on by the life of a king. It was beautiful, and in a way it felt like Galapas. Wise and comforting.

He placed his fingers on the wood, for a moment, before he went into the home to gather his things. But the home was beginning to fade back into the forest. He collected his things, as the rest of it melted away again, turning into plants and leaves.

He sealed the mouth of the cave, no one was to discover it until magic was safe, he knew if Morgana, or Morgause, discovered it, it would not end well. So he started to walk, trying to sort out a destination. But he was lost, without a mentor to tell him what to do, he didn't know what to do with it all. The ring was warm in his pocket, constantly making its presence known, constantly reminding him that he had a job to do.

That night, he settled onto the forest floor and closed his eyes. He cleared his mind, discarded the sadness of Galapas, and let the images come to him. Morgause stood at the front of the army, alone, why was Morgana not with her? He saw Cenred's kingdom fall, then Olaf's, then Alined. Their flags burned, Morgause took control of the castles. So Nemeth, then, was her final destination.

When he woke up, he knew what he needed to do.

But he knew he needed to tell Arthur.

He hadn't moved distances that were so large before, but he needed to. So as he felt his way towards Cenred's borders, a flash of pain along the way distracted him. Slowly, the trees around him shifted into different ones, and the cried pains of a bird called to him. Concerned, he shook away the lingering daze from the magic and made his way towards the sound.

It was quite an odd scene, the cage gleamed like metal but it was barely more than tin. He walked towards it, examining the creature inside. He was far too big for his cage, Merlin expected that the flesh under all those feathers was bruised. The bird stared at him, almost frightened, before thrashing about. "Hey, hey, stop that. You'll hurt yourself. I'll let you out." He said, putting his hands on the cage.

He recoiled as if burnt, the owl seemed to look at him almost smugly. Frustrated, but not daunted, Merlin went about trying to feel it. It was a strange contraption, the area inside the cage was like a void, devoid of magic. It was unnatural. He frowned, it wouldn't react to his magic.

"Wait here, I've got an idea." He said, because he knew where he was. He was close to the Lake, the one the dragon had brought him to. Freya's lake.

The sound of the water sloshing against the shore caused a flash of pain, as he stepped towards it. The way Arthur had held him, when he had seen him, the way he had _hurt_ so much to see Merlin again. Sadly, he dipped his fingers in the water. He could feel the gentle touch of Freya's hand against his.

"I need that sword." He said, softly. "It's still here, isn't it?" He asked, the touch disappeared from his fingers and in the distance, the tip of it emerged. It floated as though someone were carrying it, and he smiled as he stood. When he reached out to take it, Freya flickered into view. "It's good to see you." He said, aching for her.

"And you." She replied. He could see through her, only an illusion, a thin layer of water hovering in the air in the shape of her features. "Now go, don't linger here."

"Thank you." But she was gone, dissolving into mist. But with the sword in his hands, the edges shining, he made his way back to the owl in a cage.

The bird thrashed unhappily, almost glaring at him. It was a nice looking bird, but his feathers were bent in weird ways, he looked injured. He seemed to favour one of his legs. But the sword he had was magical, and he could use it to destroy whatever magic trapped him in there.

"Er, careful." He provided uselessly, as he unsheathed the sword and gripped it in two hands. He pulled it back and brought it as hard as he could against the weird cage. The flash of red light that came from it shot him backwards, the sword flying from his hands.

"You could have chopped my head clean off, boy! You need to watch where you're waving that thing around!."

Merlin must have hit his head harder than he thought, if the owl was talking to him. It perched on one of Merlin's knees, glaring at him intently. "You're an owl." Merlin said.

"No, I'm a fox." The owl stated, before fluffing out his chest feathers. "Of course I'm an owl, you idiot."

But the movement of fluffing himself up seemed to hurt, he was tucking his wings in close and looking miserable. "I can see why someone locked you in a cage." He added, as he concentrated on the little flashes of pain that seemed to echo off of him.

All at once, the bird seemed soothed. Relaxing and hopping down Merlin's leg to settle on his stomach. "Well I suppose you're not entirely useless." He said. "I am Archimedes, and I thank you for saving me." With that, the owl was bowing. _Bowing_, of all things. Merlin couldn't help it - he fell back onto the ground and laughed. The owl scoffed, hopping up and off of Merlin, flapping his way into one of the trees. "If that's what my gratefulness gets!" Then he was muttering darkly to himself.

Merlin stood, dusting off his clothes and grabbing the sword from beside him. "Oh come on now, don't be like that. Thank you for thanking me!" Arthur would probably get along spectacularly well with him, they were both kind of a prat.

The owl huffed, but fluttered down to meet him anyways. He landed heavily on Merlin's shoulder. "I was locked in that blasted cage for ages." He stated unhappily. "Why would you give an owl the ability to talk then lock him up? Really, some people. Now, where are you going?"

It seemed that Merlin had just adopted an owl. "I'm heading to Cenred's Kingdom. There's an army coming, I need to warn them."

"Well that's awfully noble of you, isn't it?" They were walking again, Merlin trying to belt the sword to his waist. His belt wasn't so well equipped to carry it, so he took to holding it up as he walked.

"It's my job." He said, amused. "It's what 'm meant to do."

The bird ruffled his feathers, settling into Merlin's shoulder. He was so gentle with his talons, only holding tight enough to not fall off. It was a little awkward to walk with a great big owl on his shoulder, but he managed. He was sure if he told him, he'd switch to the other side.

He wasn't sure if he could transport himself without leaving Archimedes behind. That night, he stopped, sitting down at the base of a tree and letting the Sight come to him. He connected with it, trying to pinpoint what he wanted to see. He saw the army retreat, led by an injured Morgause, Camelot remained untouched.

"Archimedes." He called, softly, the owl fluttered over to Merlin, settling on his knee. "I need you to take a message to Camelot for me." He said. "Can you do that? It's important."

"I'm not a messenger pigeon." He huffed, fluffing out again, which was quite amusing.

Merlin grinned. "People generations from now will remember your name." He pointed out. "They won't forget. I need you to do this."

With a sigh, the bird deflated. "Fine. What would you like me to say?"

"Find Arthur, and tell him he needs to move his army to Nemeth. That's where Morgause will be heading, it's pointless trying to head off the army before they reach each destination. So he needs to go there, I'm going to find everyone and have everyone meet in Nemeth, to take down her army. An army that doesn't need to eat moves quickly. I'm afraid I don't know how to do that." He paused, frowning. "But, I didn't see Morgana. Maybe she-" He broke off, either she had died or she had joined Arthur. He was still suspicious, was she going to try to kill Arthur? Gain his trust, then take him out?

He would just have to watch, and make sure. "Can you tell him that?" He asked.

"Very well." Archimedes stated, "it will be good to fly again." He said, approvingly.

"Thank you." He said, reaching out to stroke his feathers. "Arthur will be leading all of them, you know. It'll be brilliant." He yearned to go to Camelot now, to tell Arthur himself. To share all that he had learned. But he knew he would be too tempted to pass on the ring as soon as he saw him.

He didn't dare try to See the outcome of the battle, too scared that Arthur would die, too worried that he will change his mind. If he Saw Arthur's death, could he truly keep moving ahead with his plan? Something had changed, years ago, the vision Galapas had of Arthur's death. He couldn't place what it was, which moment had changed Arthur's path?

Perhaps it had been when Arthur had become king, when he had removed the ban on magic. Perhaps it had been when Merlin took his life.

He imprinted Arthur's image into Archimedes' mind, the same way he had done with the merlin. When Archimedes left, soaring high into the night sky, Merlin settled in to sleep, closing his mind to the future. He did not wish to dream of what may happen tonight.


	4. Chapter 4

"I request an audience with the king." Merlin said, voice raspy. His throat was dry, there was very little water on the journey here, he had never known Essetir was so dry. Though he supposed there were more than enough wells to keep everyone and everything watered. It was a foolish move to neglect filling up the waterskin like he had. And he couldn't simply transport himself from place to place.

Which slowed his pace, it gave more time for Morgause to get here. It was simply easier to have everyone join together, rather than have each kingdom try to fight. There just wasn't enough time, he hadn't known that Morgause planned to move between kingdoms. Perhaps she hadn't eve known it. If he had the time, if they all had the time, he would tell them to prepare to fight them off.

But he recalled the conversation with Morgana, last night out in the woods while he dreamed. She had told him how the battle was won, and he was a little bit thrilled to know that Seers could, it seemed, communicate with one another through dreams. He told her how to control hers, as best he could. Then asked after Arthur, this was the closest to speaking with him, face to face, as he was going to get right now.

She had told him he was doing well. Little more than that.

The guards glared at him, "and what business do you have with him?"

"I come to warn him. I'd rather not talk out here." He stated, voice fierce. Morgause's army was close, a week away at most. Even if she could move them quickly, they were common men who could not die, they could still feel hunger pains, they still needed to allow horses to rest, Morgause herself would need to sleep.

The guards contemplated Merlin for a moment, taking in the owl perched on his shoulder and the scruff of a beard beginning on his chin. "I mean no harm, if that's what you mean. These matters are urgent, sent from King Arthur of Camelot." Which actually got them moving. It was a lie, Arthur had not sent him, but if it worked who was he to deny it?

They led him inside, eyeing Archimedes silently. Who had, thankfully, agreed to remain utterly silent, or Merlin said he was going to lock him in the tree when he went to speak to kings.

Cenred was sitting at the chair, richly decorated and comfortable looking, especially when Merlin's feet had begun to ache. He longed to sink down into a comfortable bed, or that chair.

"What can I help you with?" Cenred asked, bored. Merlin stepped towards him and gave an awkward bow.

"I'm here to tell you that you are under attack."

"What?" The man stated, outraged, getting to his feet and pulling a dagger from his belt, he pointed the sharpened tip at Merlin. "What have you done?"

Merlin threw his hands up, holding them at shoulder level, Archimedes fluffed his feathers, ready to fly off. "I'm here to warn you. The sorcerer Morgause is on her way here, she comes with an immortal army. You only have a few days."

The man didn't lower his dagger. "How do I know you're not working with her?" He hissed. Merlin frowned.

"Because I carry the seal of the High King." He declared, standing tall and unblinking at the point of the knife. "We're at the brink of a full scale war, we all need to prepare, and we all need to stand together."

"The High King?" He asked, eyes widening. "I thought the High King was lost in Uther's purge." He snarled Uther's name, as though it were poison.

"No, only hiding. One man will prove himself worthy of the title, which is why you need to listen to me."

"Prove it, let's see this ring." Finally, the dagger was lowering, the men lining the room began to relax with him.

Merlin wasn't so foolish to simply keep it in his pocket, where it could fall out. Instead, he had bound it to the sword, strengthened it with magic. So carefully, he unwound the chain, and held it out to him. But his magic moved through the air, protecting it, as Cenred picked it up. "You tell the truth." He said, voice soft, as he placed the ring back.

"There is no stopping Morgause." He said, feeling the sense of urgency begin to sink over his shoulders. "She attacked Camelot first with her partner, the Lady Morgana, but Morgana changed sides, it is the only reason Camelot was able to fight her off. You need to let your kingdom fall, put up a bit of a fight, but let it fall. Move your best men to Nemeth, you have the best chance of winning there."

"Let Essetir fall? Are you mad?"

Merlin nearly laughed at the question, after all of this, he might be more than a little bit mad. "You will be slaughtered if you stay here, you and all your knights will die. If you head to Nemeth now, you can still survive. Let her take your kingdom, I promise it will still be yours after all this is finished. But you need to leave, now. You can't kill immortal knights, the sooner you go, the better chances you have of surviving."

Cenred slid the dagger back in his belt, eyeing Merlin suspiciously. "Very well. If this is all a trick, you _will _regret it. I promise you that." He turned to the men around the room. "Well!" He shouted. "You heard him. Prepare the best, take what we need, we leave in three days!"

He turned to Merlin again, "you need a better belt for that sword of yours. Come with me." He instructed, beginning to walk. Merlin followed. "What was your name again?" He asked, curiously.

"It's Merlin, sire." He replied.

"Merlin? Arthur's Merlin? The man who cheated death?" He stopped in the doorway, staring at Merlin in disbelief. "Why didn't you say so?I wouldn't have pointed a knife at your throat had I known."

Merlin vowed not to start the conversation with 'you're under attack' again.

They went to the armoury, where the sword was strapped to a belt. It carried Cenred's crest, Merlin wondered what Arthur would think of that. But he accepted the gift gratefully, the sword no longer pulled down to his thighs, but held steadily at his hip.

And later, he marvelled at how strange it was to be treated like a guest, and not a servant. He sat at the table for dinner, speaking of what he knew of the attack. He didn't mention the visions, or anything else. Only what he could know.

"But why Nemeth?" Cenred asked, over the goblet of wine.

"Nemeth is her last destination, she won't be expecting so much resistance. If everywhere else falls quickly, she won't believe that Nemeth will be as difficult as a target, she'll be caught off guard."

There was talk of strategy, things Merlin had remembered in Arthur's time, and new ones, things he had never thought of before. He learned, quickly, and picked up on each of it.

Archimedes complained, loudly, that night as he settled into one of the guest chambers, about being forced to be quiet. Merlin tiredly praised him for holding his tongue. He pulled out the letter that Arthur had sent him, fondly, looking over the familiar writing, the kind words from his king.

He had thought about sending another message, but if he could connect to Morgana in sleep, he had no use for it. Besides, his time was better used to preparing, the both of them had too much to do.

He left in the morning, Cenred wished him well and allowed him the use of one of his horses. Merlin thanked him, grateful, and took off into the early morning, leaving the knights behind, who were preparing wagons and weapons.

It took a few days to reach Olaf's kingdom, riding the horse hard enough to move fast but allowing him to rest. Archimedes alternated between clutching the saddle and flying above. He kept moving, kept riding, kept going. He could not stop. When he began to see Olaf's kingdom in the distance, he felt relief. And he knew, then, that Morgause would be reaching Cenred's walls soon.

He only hoped that he had been able to move his forces in time.

This time he held himself differently, a little taller. He had stopped in the village first, purchasing a blade to shave the scruff from his jaw. It would make him look a bit more presentable, not the scruffy boy who wore a tattered cloak and requested to see the king.

He left the horse in the saddles, scolding Archimedes for chattering in his ear as he entered the castle. He did not need to request an audience with the king, as he had opened the doors to the people of the town to hear their words. Merlin waited in line, and let others ahead of him to speak last.

Finally, as evening fell, Merlin stepped up before him. The man smiled, "what may I help you with?" He asked, warmly. Merlin thought this would be easier.

"I am Merlin, I come with urgent news."

"Merlin?" The man asked, sitting forwards with interest. "Well, go on then. Let's hear it."

"Morgause comes with an army, she is attempting to take control of the five kingdoms." His speech was more practised now, remembering the words exchanged in Cenred's court. "She will be here soon, Essiter is falling as we speak, and you will be next."

The man nodded to one of the knights along the walls, who closed the door and bolted it. "Go on." He invited.

"Her attempts failed on Camelot, they had enough time to prepare for her attack. She brings an immortal army, they can not be defeated, but both Cenred and Arthur have sent their knights to Nemeth, where she will not be expecting an attack of that scale. You need to add your men to theirs, if you do, she will have no hope of winning."

"But why?" He asked, sitting back again. "Why can I not simply fight them off? My walls can withstand any blow."

"If there are enough men, she won't be able to break through. You don't stand a chance."

He bristled, "of course I stand a chance! I've fought in many wars, boy, and you will not stand here and tell me how I can and cannot prepare my army."

Merlin frowned, okay, wrong thing to say then. Cenred had caved easily, choosing the chance of staying alive over the pride of never letting his kingdom fall. "If you don't move your knights, so many will die." He started, trying a different tactic. "Her army can't be killed, they will stay alive no matter what you throw at them."

"Couldn't we simply kill their leader? They will crumble if she is dead."

"She is a sorcerer, she won't let herself be killed."

"Then you underestimate the ability of my men."

Merlin was frustrated, now, how on earth did he take convince him? His vision had made it seem so easy, but that wasn't the case. "Very well." He said, gave a short bow, and left.

Then he remembered - Vivian. Last time he had seen her, she had been under a love spell, he hadn't seen her since she had left. Arthur's spell had been broken, but had hers?

Perhaps if he could convince her, he could convince Olaf.

So he went for a bit of a walk, aiming to find her, see if she was outside. And eventually, he found her, sitting at a bench sullenly, deep shadows under her eyes. He walked towards her, moving slow, she didn't bother lifting her head to look at him, only stared straight ahead of her. He remembered her, now, the way he had not bothered to reverse the spell on her. In the way she sat, he could see the toll it had taken on her.

She was living under a love spell for a man she couldn't have.

It humbled her, instead of sneering at him because he was still more of a servant than anything, she only peered up at him tiredly. She had been living like this for so long, and he ached for her. He hadn't even thought of her, how could he have forgotten that someone else might have been suffering because of his carelessness?

His thoughts darkened, but as he sat beside her he fought to tell himself that there was nothing else any of them could have done, he wasn't even sure if anyone had told Olaf that she was under a spell. Surely, it would have been obvious by now.

"Hello." He greeted, voice soft and gentle.

"You're Merlin." Her voice was soft, so unlike the shrill tone he remembered. "Hello." She said, gently. "Come to kiss me too?" She asked, peering at him, Merlin only frowned. He couldn't imagine what she would have gone through, her father had obviously stopped being so protective of her, judging by those soft words.

"I'm here to tell you something." He said, softly. "There's a war coming, and you need to convince your father to move his men to Nemeth, or your whole kingdom will fall."

"Oh, okay." She dropped her gaze ahead of her. There was silence, for a long moment, Archimedes chose that moment to return, setting on the bench beside Merlin.

"The spell," Merlin started, awkwardly. "I'm sorry. I should have done more to help."

She chuckled. "It's silly, I know I'm under a spell, I know it's not real, but I still love him. It's easier to deal with now, though, not like before." She smiled, almost sadly.

"Maybe you'll find whoever your true love is in Nemeth." He suggested, softly. "You never know."

"Will Arthur be there?" He heard the soft hitch in her breath at his name, he knew she couldn't help it.

"Yes." He admitted. "But if you leave now, you'll be there first, plenty of time to find someone." He said, grinning, nudging her with his elbow slightly.

Archimedes peered curiously at Merlin. "She's under a spell?" He asked, she jumped, visibly shocked at the talking owl. "Can't you do anything about that, Merlin?" He asked, curious.

"I can't, there's nothing I can do."

"The spell has faded," Vivian admitted. "I've noticed that, but, you're right, Merlin. I'll convince my father, you say it's our only hope?"

"Yes."

She stood, brushing off her skirts carefully. "Very well then, I will speak to him." She was walking away, head held high, before she stopped. "Perhaps you're right. Maybe I will break this blasted spell." Her smile was sad, but there was a tiny spark of hope in it.

Merlin grinned, he felt like he had accomplished something. And though Vivian had suffered, he couldn't help but think that she wouldn't anymore, that she would find her peace.

Later that evening, a servant found him and instructed him to go inside the castle, the king requested an audience. So Merlin went, thrilled that everything was coming together smoothly.

The king greeted him with a frown, but he wasn't glaring, so that was a good sign. "I believe you're right." He said, after shooing the others out of the room. Vivian sat beside him, her head held high, if it were not for the shadows under her eyes he would have thought she was the same girl he had seen so many years ago.

"Tell me everything you know." He said, indicating that Merlin sit.

So he did, he shared Camelot's barely won victory, and how it had been won. He told him of Cenred's talk of strategy, that he was planning to go to Alined after this, to get him to join his forces with the others, then to Nemeth, where it will all come together.

"I see you're wearing Cenred's crest." He pointed out, and placed a bundle on the table. "This cloak carry mine as well, Alined will not believe you so easily. This may help, I wish you the best of luck. Stay here tonight, and thank you, for warning us."

"Thank you, sire, for hearing me." He said, gratefully, and took the folded cloth from the table. It was dark, thick, of a much higher quality than his own.

The next morning, on his way out, Vivian rushed up to him before he mounted the horse, leaning in to kiss his cheek. "I'll see you in Nemeth." She said, brightly, Merlin was astounded at the radical change in her. He never would have expected such a thing. But then, Arthur had changed a lot too over these years. "He has to be tall." She said, "and maybe a bit scruffy, unshaven. Father would hate that. Oh, and definitely _not_ a blonde." She grinned at him, "you find him, send him my way."

With that, she was waving him off.

The cloak was clasped together at the throat with Olaf's crest, he only wished he carried something with Arthur's on it. He only had the sword, and wondered if he could alter it in some way to give it a Camelot feel.

In the end, he didn't. He only kept moving, riding hard by day and closing his mind to the future at night. It was getting closer and closer, the days were trickling away. He did not want to See if Arthur was going to die in Nemeth, or if he was going to survive. He didn't want to know, if he knew, he wasn't sure he would be able to prevent it.

So he kept moving, trying not to think about Arthur and how he longed to see him. It wouldn't take long, he could travel great distances easily, he could get there and back.

But he couldn't, not yet. If he did, he wouldn't be able to keep moving forwards.

It took him two weeks to reach Alined's kingdom. It was such a relief to finally see the tall scraping towers. He spurred his horse faster, the sooner he got in the sooner he could rest.

After leaving his horse in the stables, he made his way to the castle doors. It was a smaller building, not as big as Camelot was. But it was no less impressive, as he entered the halls were richly decorated. Some of the decorations were worth more than he had ever made in his life. He had never seen such finely decorated carvings or paintings.

The king refused to see him, not interested in dealing with peasants until Merlin insisted that his visit will be well worth the audience. He already didn't like it here, and couldn't wait to leave. They made him wait, too, standing in the middle of the hall and trying not to look too bored. Archimedes was perched on his shoulder, tense and waiting.

Eventually, two men entered the room, making their way towards the chairs set up before him. Merlin didn't let his expression change, and stared at the two of them.

"Alright, go on then." Alined said, boredly, leaning back in the chair.

"Er, there's an army coming." Merlin started. "It's already defeated Essiter, and it's on its way to Olaf's kingdom. They will be heading here next, the army that's coming is immortal, there's no way to kill them, so every king needs to send their knights to Nemeth, strength in numbers, to try to defeat them."

He said it quickly, almost all in one breath, and sat and waited.

"Interesting." The stranger beside Alined said. "What do you make of this?"

"Is he telling the truth?" Alined asked, turning to look at Merlin.

"I carry the crests of Olaf and Cenred, and I am a part of Arthur's court. I swear to you that I am not lying."

"War, then, I suppose supplies will be needed." Merlin was almost shocked at Alined's easy acceptance. "I'm sure we can make some kind of arrangement. Join us later, for supper, and we will discuss it further."

Merlin nodded, and bowed quickly, before exiting the hall. That had been easier than he had expected.

He was in high spirits when he told the guards that he had been invited to dinner, feeling a little bit smug at their unhappy glares as they opened the doors. The hall was lovely, and Merlin was invited to sit next to the two men. Alined's hand was folded calmly over the other man's, and Merlin found himself suddenly shy.

Could he have that with Arthur, maybe? But, no, Arthur hadn't expressed so much interest. But, maybe? There had to be a chance, and if there was, Merlin was going to take it. But seeing the two men, both kings of their own people, calmly living and sharing together like this, gave him enough hope to at least _try_.

"Tell me more, how do you know all of this?" The other man asked, "are you a Seer?"

Merlin gaped, he hadn't been asked that before. He took a quick look around the room, judging how many people he would need to get away from if it were a trick, and replied. "No. Well, not naturally. I learned it, recently, a man called Galapas taught me."

"Galapas? Really?" Alined said, "that's astonishing, I thought he was dead. Well then, boy, tell us all you know."

He had known that Alined had tried to start a war, and he had known he had not been the best of men, but being so accepted here, and seeing the open act of love between him and the other (who he later on found out was called Lot) made him feel almost at home.

He had been only a guest in Cenred and Olaf's courts, here, he felt more like a friend. They were served, given wine, and Merlin was able to preform a few simple magic tricks. And he realized he wanted what Alined and Lot had, that casual romance, the way they sat back in their chairs after the plates had been cleared away, nursing the honey mead in their cups and spurring Merlin on.

He went to sleep that night feeling pleasantly happy, his body humming. Archimedes scolding him for _drinking_ when he had all these things to do. Merlin laughed him off, and woke up in the morning to Archimedes screeching. Which was loud, and irritating, and his head was a little sore.

He stayed another full day, invited out riding with Alined and Lot. They also made Merlin pull out Arthur's sword, and laughed at him as he struggled to swing it properly. Archimedes, though, cheered up when he realized he didn't have to be silent the whole time.

The morning he left, Lot placed a pair of gloves in his hands, with Alined's crest on them. "There you are." He said, "that will help when you decide to use the sword. Nemeth is cold this time of year, back in Camelot it doesn't get nearly so cold does it?" He grinned, patted Merlin hard on the shoulder before he left.

And the gloves were warm, which was good, because the nights got colder. At the border to Nemeth, he fell asleep and opened his mind, trying to find Morgana, trying to get in to contact with her, somehow.

He didn't see her the first night, but the second he did. She met him in his dreams, smiling at him. "She used the Cup of Life." She said, voice soft. She looked as though she had been sleeping better now, Merlin was grateful. "Arthur's getting antsy, he's sent half his men up ahead, he will be joining soon. The cup isn't where Morgause left it, but we have some ideas. We will find it. This war can't be won without it."

Merlin nodded, sitting with her in the shadows of their combined dream. "Just be safe." He said, softly. "Everything is going well, the other kingdoms are sending their knights, she won't have a chance."

They sank into silence, then, "Arthur misses you."

Merlin flushed, ducking his head. "I miss him." He said, grinning at her.

It took another week to get to Nemeth, the air was cold but he was warm. Archimedes complained about it, Merlin ignored him.

He was greeted with a warm welcome by princess Mithian when he arrived, who was outside when she saw him coming. Perhaps it was the owl that gave him away, but she walked over to him, introduced herself.

"I've heard a great deal about you, Merlin" She said softly. "Are the stories true?"

"Which ones?"

"That you cheated death."

"Yes, they are."

"Will you tell me about it?"

"Yes, I will, but first I must speak to the king. I have urgent news."

Mithian smiled at him, "this way," she instructed, leading him into the castle. She was charming, rather lovely, if his heart didn't belong to Arthur, he might have fancied her. But he only had eyes for his king.

"Father," Mithian said, when they arrived to the private chambers Rodor sat in. "This is Merlin of Camelot, he says that he has news for you."

"Oh? Yes, well, sit down then."

So Merlin talked, slowly, about his plan. About the kingdom that had fallen and the ones that were about to, about how they were sending their armies here, to keep Morgause from getting in. They accepted his tale easily, without any fight, likely because they saw the items he wore, the gifts from each king with their marks. All but Arthur's.

So now, he had to wait. Wait for the armies to arrive, wait for the battle to begin. Now that his task was done, his mission complete, it was Arthur's turn. He asked for some paper, at the table, and wrote Arthur a message. He turned to Archimedes, stroking his feathers kindly. "I need you to take this to Arthur." He said warmly.

Archimedes huffed. "Very well." He said, grumpily, Mithian let out a squeak. "But you owe me." Merlin secured the letter to his leg, and carried him to the window.

"Thank you." He said, and watched the owl spread his wings and take off into the foggy day. He turned back to Rodor and his daughter, "and thank you, as well." He added.

"I'm sure you've had a long journey, rest, we will talk more later." Rodor said, "I'll show you to your rooms. This way."

_I'll be waiting for you in Nemeth, Be safe. _

_Merlin_


	5. Chapter 5

Half of Camelot's army was marching ahead, they would get there faster than the full amount. Armies took a long time to move, they would know that Camelot was coming if some of them arrived now. But while they were gone, there was another matter to take care of.

"She'll have moved it, you know." Morgana said. "She knows I know where it is. It'll be the first thing she'd do."

"I know, but we need to try anyways. We can't defeat her otherwise."

"She might have it with her." She replied, watching the red flags of Camelot disappear into the distance. It had only taken a few weeks to prepare half an army, led by Leon, and send them out. They still had time, if what Archimedes said was true. But the faster they moved out, the better.

"The rest of the army will be ready to leave soon, but you and I need to find the cup." He said, turning to her. "We'll set out tomorrow."

They parted ways, Arthur going to find the men he would take with him. Lancelot and Percival, a few of his most trusted knights. Leon had been trusted to lead the army on, while Arthur took care of this.

The two of them readily agreed, Arthur left them to it, told them they would set out first thing in the morning.

And in the morning, Arthur had the young child help him with the straps of his armour. He had to stand on a stool to reach that high, and Arthur kindly assisted him, telling him if it was too tight or too lose, and why. The kid was proud of himself for his work, Arthur ruffled his hair and told him to be good while he was gone.

He caught the tail end of Lancelot's good-bye to Gwen, ignoring the spike of envy in his chest. He would see Merlin soon enough, and then, everything would come together. Gwen's brother, Elyan, stood with them too. Arthur did not tell him to or not to go, he had chosen to, Arthur was simply grateful that there was one more set of hands.

Arthur had not bothered telling Morgana not to go, he knew where they were going, but he knew damn well she wouldn't hear him say anything about her staying behind. He watched her embrace Gwen happily. The two of them were close again, like they never had been before. He mounted his horse, peering into the distance. "It's a ruined castle." She said. "That's where she's kept it, it's barely standing, no one would think to look there. She said it was safer that way."

But it would be different now, he thought as the horses carried them into the winding pathways of the forest. Morgause would have it with her, if she were planning on travelling so far, if her spell on Morgana had been broken.

It was, truly, nice to have her back. She had been gone for so long, and after her disappearance, he had led search parties. The damage done from the dragon's attack had been expansive, there were so many repairs, and after Merlin's death he hadn't the energy to try to look for her.

Now she was here again, her old firey self.

They rode fast through morning and into afternoon, meeting little trouble. The whole forest was buzzing with energy, as if it knew the world around them was about to change dramatically. They reached the castle early the next morning. They were tired, they hadn't stopped the whole night. There was the sense of urgency in their mission, even if this was a dead end, it was better than sitting around just waiting.

There was much to do, of course, there were so many things to prepare. But he couldn't handle that so well, knowing that Merlin was out there, not being able to speak to him, he couldn't handle it. He was a man of action, and though he could plan these long journeys, he couldn't just sit there and wait. There was only so much he could do.

They tied the horses outside, inspecting the castle as they made their way in. They were tired, but they didn't expect any kind of danger. They explored, Arthur examined each thing he saw. Each dusty item, left over from kings who were long dead. The ancient seals of the kings who had ruled, mounted on the walls. That's what used to be here - the high kings of the past, the ones that had ruled over everyone.

"Whatever happened to the high king?" Arthur asked, softly, as they walked.

"I was only a baby when it happened," Morgana said, trailing her fingers along the dusty wall.

"My mother used to tell me he died before naming the next king." Elyan spoke up. "She said that he had not thought anyone was fit to rule just yet, but she did have hope that someone would come along to take up the title again."

"How long has it been since he died?" Percival asked.

"I don't know. Thirty years? Twenty? I'm not sure."

They came onto a room then, wide and open with watery streams of sunlight pouring through a hole in the roof. The sunlight spread across a table in the centre of the room, a cloth covering it. "This is where she held the cup." Morgana said softly.

There had been footsteps in the thick dust, and in the centre of the table, there was a small indent, a small circle, where the cup had been. But Arthur was curious, and grabbed the corner of the sheet.

In one movement, he tugged it from the stone table.

He walked in a long circle around it, dust floating through the air, speckling the streams of light. He ran his fingers along the engravings as he walked. Each spot on the table had a different mark, until he came to the head of it. "What do you make of this?" He asked the group, softly, as they stood around it as well.

No one said anything, uncertain.

Arthur smiled. "My father told me of this, once." His father had spoken of it with a kind of unhappy softness, as if he could not believe the tales behind it. The stone table had no edges, every man at it could see everyone else, no one was higher than anyone. "In a time of war, which we are approaching quickly, we are all equal. No man stands above any others, titles are forgotten, each man protects everyone around him, none stand above, none stand below. We become equals."

He traced the markings almost fondly, "Morgana, do you understand what these mean?" He asked, looking at her. She bent to investigate them, rubbing the dust away with her palm.

"No, I don't."

"Let's copy them, we can bring them to Geoffery, he may be able to translate it for us."

The spot next to him seemed so vacant, he almost waited to hear Merlin's strange brand of advice, and as they sat around a fire, inside the walls, he missed Merlin's cooking. It seemed like it had been so long since he had seen him. Even after Merlin had returned, he had been so different. He missed his smiles, his jokes, his teasing and the way they could go back and forth for hours.

He didn't know if Merlin would ever be the same again, and he didn't know if he could shake the fact that he seemed so fragile before, like anything Arthur said could break him. He had been so careful.

They sat together, he missed the strange tasting teas Merlin would make when the air got colder. The winters weren't ever too difficult here, and it was settling in slowly. He didn't know what he would see when he saw Merlin again, if he would still be fractured or if he would be whole again. He didn't know if he would be whole again, when he saw him, he didn't know if he could shake it off and be himself once more.

Not knowing was the hard part, it was the part that made him hesitate.

But around him, the knights and Morgans were happy. Though, perhaps not happy. There was the threat of war, looming over them, there was the darkness at the edges, there was the long moments of silence where they thought about what might be happening.

Morgana had told him once, that she had spoken to Merlin in her dreams. She said that Merlin had looked happy, that he had told her how she could help keep her nightmares at bay. Gaius had helped, but he didn't know everything. But she looked less tired, less weary now.

He had been so close to loosing her, so close to having her against him until the end. But he had broken the spell with only his words, and if his words could do that, what else could they do? Perhaps they could fix the world as it was, the way the kingdoms were fractured, the kings that fought against each other.

But they were delusions of grandeur, so he settled in instead, as their conversation turned serious. Where was the cup of life? Did Morgause have it?

"She probably has it now." Morgana said softly. "I know she enchanted it, only the most powerful of magic can knock it over. Each man in her army gave a drop of their blood, and they are immortal with it. If it is destroyed, or spilled, those men will die. Each and every one of them." But that wouldn't be all of them, Morgana had said that some men were those that had died. They would still stand, it was a brilliant plan, even if her army fell they would not be defeated.

"Then we travel to Nemeth." He said, "and prepare there."

"If we let Morgause arrive first," Lancelot started. "Then we can sneak up behind her, we can catch her off guard and take the cup from her."

"Or we could try letting her think she's won, let her put it down somewhere, then we can get in and destroy it." Elyan added.

"I woudn't want to risk men dying, and we have no way to get there soon enough to tell them."

"Unless the men are able to get in." Percival muttered, Arthur frowned.

"Our best move is to prepare a sneak attack, get them from behind." Morgana said, "half the army is there already, she's going to be caught off guard anyways, she won't count them."

Arthur knew that it was a good way to do this, it might even be the best way to find an advantage, but he longed to get in there first, so he could see Merlin. But it was better to do it this way, they needed the advantage, they needed the cup, and they weren't going to get it unless they got some kind of surprise.

Which meant he had no idea when he would see Merlin again.

They slept late into the next morning, woke, and made their way back to Camelot. There was so much they needed to do, now, they needed to prepare the bulk of the army, Arthur needed to find a way. They travelled back slowly, as Morgana thought to any other places Morgause may have hidden the cup. They stopped in a village for the evening, the air was lifeless and bored, after they had all retired to their rooms, Arthur couldn't keep still.

So he left his room and ventured into the town where there was a tavern, its doors cracked, warm light pouring into the dirt in front of it. He could hear laugher, singing, shouting, and slowly entered. There was a game of dice going on in the corner, loudly, over their large mugs of ale. He watched them for a moment, before sitting down at one of the free tables.

The barmaid boredly asked him what he was having, he told her anything would do, and sat and watched.

It wouldn't do to get out of his mind, not while he wasn't in Camelot, not while there were so many things on the line. But he could have a drink, maybe another, and maybe it would help him relax. Maybe it would take his mind off of Merlin, and how he could have done things differently. He had sheltered him too much, kept him too close.

He was lost in his own regrets when a man with longish hair and a scraggly beard loudly fell into the chair opposite him. Arthur simply raised one eyebrow, starting at the man. "Hello there, friend!" The man said, Arthur could smell the alcohol on his breath.

He remembered Merlin, back then, calling him a friend when they had first met. The thought was a stab of pain, if Merlin had never come to Camelot, he would have stayed _happy_.

But then, Arthur would be dead - so he only nodded, took another sip of the cheap ale. "Oh come on now, princess, cheer up, you're in a tavern! Enjoy the night!" He rose his drink into the air, and tipped it back, downing the rest.

A larger looking man with awfully large ears (and a nose that stuck out farther than his belly) placed two hands heavily on the table, nearly knocking over Arthur's drink. "Pay up." The man demanded, narrowing his gaze on the stranger. He threw up his hands, the sly grin never leaving his face.

"My friend here said he'd take care of it." He said, nodding at Arthur, he only had a second to react before the stranger was gone and Arthur was being hauled to his feet by a large set of hands, face to face with an angry drunk.

"Excuse me." Arthur growled, and with only the smallest amount of effort, twisted himself out of the man's grip and tossed him over his shoulder. No easy feat, but it was a bit sideways anyway, not his best work. But it got the attention of everyone in the room, so Arthur quickly left, leaving the guy patting his aching head with a groan.

Out into the night, he saw the stranger, casually leaning against one of the wooden posts. "You bastard." Arthur growled, quite nearly stomping over to him.

"It's Gwaine, actually." He said with a smirk, Arthur deflated a little bit. "I knew you'd handle yourself, you look like the type." Outside, he still had the scent of alcohol on his breath but he looked next to sober.

Arthur glared. "And if I couldn't?"

"As if, you'd be insulted if I didn't think you could take care of him." At that moment, the door creaked, Gwaine spent a second staring at it before he was moving, shouting with laugher.

Arthur followed, not really interested in getting into a tavern brawl while his companions were sleeping in the inn just up the road. They ran a little ways into the forest, Gwaine collapsing against the nearest tree with laughter.

Arthur couldn't help but joining in, laughing freely in a way he couldn't even _remember_ doing. "You are _insane_." He gasped out, hands on his knees, grinning at him.

"Oh that? That's nothing. You should have seen the mess last week." Arthur couldn't tell if he was joking or serious, Arthur didn't really care.

After the laughter had faded, Arthur straightened. "I should get back." He said, "I have a lot to do."

"Wait, I know you." Gwaine said, suddenly. "You're the king." For a moment he looked shocked, before he was doubling over with laughter again. "Oh my _god_ I nearly got the king of Camelot in a tavern brawl!" Arthur frowned and crossed his arms, waiting for the laughter to stop.

When it did, Gwaine straightened again. "What are you doing here, though? I saw the knights, why aren't you with them?"

But Gwaine could be a spy, despite his good-natured laughter. "I have business." Seriousness flooded his face, for a moment, as he contemplated Arthur.

"You know, you're a good man. I'll leave you to it, then, princess." He said, with a smirk and a nod, before he was heading back into the town.

And in the morning, Gwaine was there, his horse ready as they mounted theirs. He followed them back to Camelot, and when Guinevere asked who he was, Arthur simply said "he followed us home', and that was the end of it.

Because on the way home, Gwaine was the one who spotted the wolves before they could spook the horses. They were just basking in a patch of sun, they took a different route. Gwaine was obviously skilled, and if he proved to be useful, Arthur didn't have a problem with letting him stay.

Even if he had nearly got him into a tavern brawl.

And over the weeks, they prepared the army. Arthur had taken on a bunch of new men, not all of them noble, but all of them strong-willed and able bodied. He selected some to stay behind, to keep watch over Camelot, and the others would come with them.

He was still trying to create a plan, Morgana's dreams were getting worse, filled with blood and steel and pain. She could barely sleep, she could barely stay awake during the day. Hunith was trying to help, as was Gaius, but there was little they could do. Hunith spent much of her time with Morgana, and Arthur couldn't help but feel a little jealous.

She came to him, early one cold morning, woke him up and told him she had just spoken to Merlin. He touched her hand and got out of bed, directing her into it and stroking her hair until she fell asleep again. She didn't wake up until long after noon, looking alive again.

The day Archimedes flew into Camelot was the day they left. Arthur sat on the back of his horse, when he saw the owl he held his arm high in the air. The owl landed heavily on Arthur's arm, his talons digging into the leather. "I will never understand you humans and your desire to write to each other." He said, as Arthur tugged the letter free from his leg. Something warmed in his chest at the sight of it, Merlin was there, in Nemeth, and he would see him soon.

He turned to the rest of the men, ready to leave, he had taken a chance, and told Guinevere to stay behind, as regent Queen to protect the kingdom while he was gone. He had known her all his life, he knew her to be fair and just. He normally would have left Leon, or another, but he needed them with him.

Hunith walked towards Arthur, reaching up to his elbow to retie Merlin's scarf. He bent to allow it, Archimedes swaying on his arm and huffing unhappily. He bent further to kiss her knuckles.

And with their good-byes said, Arthur sat up straight, Archimedes moving to his shoulder instead, talons locking into the links of chain. He shouted to the ranks, and with a great burst of noise, they were off, horses hooves clattering and weapons clinking in the carts. That was the advantage with a smaller army, everyone could ride and those that couldn't stayed in the carts.

"Tell me what Merlin has done." He instructed, the letter had been folded and placed neatly into the back of his glove.

Archimedes seemed to perk up a little at that, telling him stories of all the things he and Merlin had done. The long days of travel, the little gifts that the kings had given him, the fact that Merlin had insisted he didn't say a word when they were inside each time ("How dare he!" Archimedes had said, outraged, Arthur had laughed and agreed, how dare Merlin tell a talking owl not to talk when he was telling a king about war) and the two kings that lived together.

He felt a bit warm at that, and wished desperately that they could move faster.

But they couldn't, there were a few things that they still needed to do. They needed to wait Morgause's army out, let them arrive first, and get in from the side. As they travelled, his head held high, Archimedes stayed with him. And Archimedes stayed with him until they reached Nemeth's border. It had been a long journey, difficult but quick.

But now, they needed to plan. They needed to wait outside of Nemeth, and Arthur needed to get in. He was going to wait, direct the army from outside, but he needed to get into Nemeth first, he desperately _needed_ to see Merlin.

They set up camp just inside the border, they always made quick work of setting up and tearing it all down. That's where he wrote Merlin a note, simple and quick with his name scrawled messily at the bottom. He gave it to Archimedes. "Bring this to him." He said, the bird only heaved a sigh and agreed.

"Both of you, you owe me for all this." He insisted, but Arthur stroked the soft feathers on his forehead.

"When this is said and done I'll knight you." He said, jokingly.

But the bird seemed awfully pleased about it, so Arthur realized that he might just have to knight a bloody owl when this was over.

_I'm here. _

_Arthur_

In the morning, they were off again. Travelling quickly and getting close to Nemeth's castle. But the sky was dark above them, raging with black and blue clouds. He didn't know if it was the dark magic that tainted the clouds or if it was the impending storm, but he knew something wasn't right.

Morgause had arrived before them.

There was no time to react, no time to plan, they prepared themselves in minutes for war, and charged ahead. Find Morgause, take her out, get the cup, destroy it. She would guard the cup before all else, if he destroyed her first, they would win.

She wore white robes, rich furs across her shoulders, sitting still and proud on a cart.

Across the battlefield, there were five colours. The red of Camelot, Cenred's dark green, Olaf's blue, the striking red and blue shades of Alined and the bright and powerful green of Nemeth. There were flags, standing tall, and fires burning in torches. Morgause's army wore no colour, no sign of unity, while every man who was against them wore nothing.

Gwaine was pulling off the red of Camelot, leaving it over the back of the horse. "I can blend in." He said, Arthur's blood was running hot under his skin, adrenaline, he won't be able to see Merlin any time soon. But that was okay, because at the end of this, he was going to.

He pulled the colours off of his own body too, and all at once, the rest of the army followed. Heaps of red cloth piled amongst the trees. But they needed something, something that might be missed. So he rose a hand in the air, "follow my lead!' he declared, and grasped one of the capes, tearing a long shred of it off and tying it tightly around the hilt of his sword. "Keep it hidden under your hand." He said, there was no time to prepare, they needed to get down there now. "Show it only when you encounter a friend, any man wearing a scrap of colour. These men are immortal, so you need to disable them, break a leg, remove a hand, blind them, whatever you can do, do it. Keep moving, get to Morgause, find the cup. Do not waste time trying to destroy it if you can't, get it away from her first, bring it to Morgana."

He stood tall and strong, "join their ranks, let's move, now, while we still have the advantage."

They moved quickly, slipping out from the trees to join with the rest of the men. With the army mostly at a stand-still, the kingdoms versus the immortal men, most were chatting. Talking with each other. But there was constant movement, constant shifting, everyone was ready to sweep to the front and fight.

Arthur headed straight towards Morgause's cart, where she sat on the front seat. He climbed onto it, unnoticed, and pulled a small dagger from his sleeve. He placed it against her throat, tilted her head back, only to see a young woman with dark hair, a bit of cloth tied between her teeth instead. He instantly pulled her into the shelter of the cart, untying the thick white cloak and the cloth from her mouth. He untied the ropes on her wrists, her legs. "I am Mithian of Nemeth" She said, voice moving quickly. "Morgause grabbed me, late last night, before the attack started. I was to be a decoy, thank you for finding me instead." She wasn't dressed entirely for a war, in a comfortable gown instead of armour. But the cart contained a few weapons, boots and armour that were damaged.

Mithian acted fast, taking Arthur's knife and sliding the gown at the bend of her thighs, shedding the fabric and tugging on a pair of trousers that were dirty, streaked with blood, and buckled them tightly around her hips. Arthur was a little bit impressed, he didn't know many princesses that would throw on the first bit of clothing they could find like this. "We need to get inside, she's in there. She knows that the kings had warning, she knew and she prepared."

Someone hopped into the cart, then, swaying the wood, Arthur pointed the dagger at the intruder, before seeing it was Gwaine. "Well then," he started, "I can see what the hold up is. Everyone's staying around the back right now, trying to take them down without them noticing. Morgana and Lancelot's gone up ahead, he's trying to find Merlin, whoever that is. Percival went up to find Leon, and Elyan is directing the men. It's a sight to see." And it must be, directing an army while not letting the people around know what he was doing.

"We need to get inside the castle." He said, "Morgause is inside, we need to take her out before anyone dies."

The three of them slid from the cart, as people began to notice that their leader was no longer there. He didn't know if they knew it had never been Morgause or if they knew she was a decoy, he couldn't be sure. But the three of them slipped between the bodies of men, who would allow them to pass as they did.

And quite suddenly, Arthur's world stopped. He was staring straight ahead, and in front of him stood Merlin. There was a sword in his gloved hands, a long cloak flowing out in the wind, the belt snug at his waist, and a fine gold chain around his throat, a strange-looking ring settled against his chest.

The breath was knocked out of him as he stared up at him, their eyes meeting. The gold seemed to fade so slowly from Merlin's eyes, his hand stretched in front of him, his other hand gripping the sword. His face was determined, fierce, he didn't see the traces of the broken man he had once been anymore, only the strong youthful boy who had once upon a time been his dearest friend. This was the Merlin he remembered, the one he longed for, the one that he could have been if he didn't have to hide so much. This was his Merlin, his beloved Merlin, who stood strong, so close yet too far away to reach him.

He had tried so hard to shelter him, to protect him, and this, right here, was what Merlin had become when he found himself again. He was half-way through taking a step towards him, to grasp at him and pull him inside so they could fight together, when someone to the left of him swept in front of him, knocking the blunted end of his sword against his forehead, and he fell to the ground.


	6. Chapter 6

Arthur's army arrived first.

But Arthur wasn't there, Leon led them with his head held high. He greeted Merlin like an old friend, trapping him in his arms and hugging the breath out of him. Merlin laughed, squirming out of his grip. Rodor greeted them warmly, inviting them into the ranks of his own men, who were preparing themselves. Cenred's army arrived only a few days later, and from there, the other's arrived too.

Soon, Nemeth was full of knights.

So they discussed strategy, Leon took Arthur's place, which ached in an awful way because it should have been Arthur. But Arthur's plan was a good one, send half the army ahead and let the second half attack from the rear. It was beautiful.

But these meetings definitely weren't, because the kings spent most of their time arguing over who was going to fight in the first wave, who was going to stay back and defend. He listened to an hour of it before getting fed up and slamming his hands on the table. Merlin was not a servant here, he did not have to sit and observe silently. And he needed to remember that. "This is pointless," he started. "All this fighting, why don't we mix up the ranks? Select the men at random, or get volunteers, we are all working towards a common goal, there is no point in fighting."

There was silence, before Lot sat back in his chair thoughtfully. "I agree. If we were all to work together, instead of apart, we can not lose."

Merlin grinned. "Arthur said he and Morgana were going to find a way to destroy the cup," and after a short description of what the cup was, "they will have an advantage, they won't be expecting anyone else to come in from behind."

The talks were getting tiresome, Merlin eventually retired to the courtyard, and lay across a bench, pulling out the ring of the High King and rolling it between his fingers.

Mithian walked over, and Merlin sat up quickly to let her sit. "That's a lovely ring." She observed, "may I see it?" She asked, and Merlin carefully placed it in her palm.

"It's the seal of the high king." He said, "it was given to me, I'm supposed to give it to someone."

"And you keep it in your pocket, don't you?" She asked, amused, as she pulled a stray thread from the carving. "Here, this will work better," she placed the ring back into his palm and unclasped the thin gold chain from around her neck. She pulled the small jewelled pendant from the chain and threaded the ring through it, before reaching behind Merlin's neck to clasp it back together. She sat back, giving him an approving nod. "Better, it's too easy for it to fall out of your pocket."

Merlin didn't mention the fact that he was magic, and made sure that the ring wasn't going to fall out any time soon. But he welcomed her gesture, it was kind of her. They sat in silence for a moment, before they spotted Vivian, a small number of knights following her around. "What's with her?" Mithian asked, curiously. "She's awfully strange, I remember meeting her when I was younger. She was a little bit, uhm, different."

Or a stuck up snobby thing, but that was left unsaid. Merlin's smile faded, slightly, "she's under a love spell. A few years ago she came to Camelot, and in an effort to start a war both her and Arthur were put under it. Arthur's was broken, her's wasn't. It was true love's kiss that could break it."

Which reminded him of Guinevere, and the love that they might have had, had Merlin not gotten in the way of that. "The poor girl." Mithian said, sadly, Merlin nodded in return. "I suppose that explains it."

"It's not as powerful as it was, but I can't break it for her."

"Well, maybe I'll help her. Morgause won't be here yet, we have time." She left with a nod, leaving Merlin to sit there, contemplating everything around him. He had closed his mind to visions, he did not want to see what might happen, who might die and who might live.

As the days trickled away, Archimedes returned. He looked smug, proud of himself, Merlin grasped Arthur's letter and read it, his heart hammering madly in his chest. Arthur would be here soon, he would see him soon.

But the skies began to darken, Arthur had not come yet, and Merlin began to worry. If Morgause attacked too soon, if Arthur was too late, all would be lost.

And on the eve of war, Merlin knew that tomorrow would be the day. He informed the others, so at first light, they would be prepared for battle. He did not know Morgause had entered Nemeth, he did not know she stole Mithian away in the night, he did not know that Arthur had indeed arrived.

When the battle began, the air was dark and they carried fires. With the sword in his hands, Merlin marched with Leon, with the others, and stood proud, wearing the gifts from many men, Camelot's red hanging from his back.

The sword, he learned, could kill the immortal men. But he did not dare give it to anyone else, no one but Arthur could use it. And though Merlin used it now, he was the one who had created it, who had cared for it all this time. It would be in Arthur's hands soon.

He fought, hard, his arms aching. The sword was heavy, but his magic was burning up inside of him. Sweeps of fire held the men back, aiming for their faces, trying to burn them so they could not see. He tried not to think about the lives he may be ruining, but he knew that it was kill or be killed, he had no other options. And he would live with that, because he was here to protect and survive.

In the midst of battle, he saw a face. His hand was out in front of him, the men he had just knocked over groaning as they struggled to get back up. Arthur stood there, surrounded by people who were fighting, Merlin's heart stopped for a moment. Arthur stood with his head held high, sword in his hands, he was a bright spark of life in the deadness he could feel all around him. His magic gripped onto him, vibrating hard in his bones.

These men they were fighting were already dead. He knew that now. He felt no sorrow for them.

And in that moment, Arthur was struck down. The man who knocked him over brought his sword high into the air, and sunk it back down to where Arthur was lying. He shut his magic off from him, shouting Arthur's name and trying to get towards him. He didn't dare try to feel for him, terrified that that brilliant light was out. There was suddenly a sharp pain in his hip, the point of a dagger buried in his flesh. He choked on Arthur's name, Leon was hauling him backwards and slamming his sword into the attacker's face, the sickening crunch of bones making Merlin's head spin. He was hauled backwards, through the ranks, to where his allies ripped open his tunic to patch the wound, before he bled out too much.

His head was spinning as he stood again, sword tight in his sore fingers. He was so cold.

But Arthur had to have lived.

There was a screech above them, Archimedes came crashing down to land in Merlin's arms. "You're hurt." He said, softly, to him. He could see the tip of an arrow lodged into the meat of one of his wings.

"Morgause is inside." The bird said, "risked my neck for you," he mumbled, sagging in Merlin's arms.

Merlin grabbed the sword from the ground, sliding it against his hip and turning away from the battle. "Where are you going!?" Someone shouted to him, he ignored it. He had to get inside, he had to stop thinking about Arthur. Once he was inside the large doors, he pulled off the red cape he had worn over the cloak, bundling it up and setting his friend down on it, smoothing his feathers. Quickly, he pulled the head of the jagged arrow from his wing, and concentrated on healing for only a moment.

"I'm sorry, I need to go." He said softly, "I'll return soon, you'll be fine."

He ran off, his footsteps echoing in the empty hall. He made his way through the corridors, listening hard. He heard a scream, the heavy sound of a body hitting the floor, and raced faster.

Inside the room, Vivian lay clutching her stomach, groaning in pain. "Foolish girl." Morgause scoffed, "you are nothing, you have nothing, did you really think you could stop me?"

Merlin didn't think, and sent Morgause flying through the air to the wall behind her. "Leave her be." Merlin growled, and from behind him, two more entered the room. Lancelot rushed towards Vivian, checking her pulse and making sure she was still alive, before standing. He would protect the girl. Morgana came up beside Merlin, head held high.

"Morgana." Morgause growled, her voice rough. "We could have been great." She said, getting back to her feet. "You began to question me, you had doubts. I had hoped not to enchant you, but you gave me no other options. I needed you!" The woman's voice cracked, a little bit, Merlin could feel her pain. She just wanted a companion, didn't she?

But she also wanted to rule, she wanted to destroy everything she touched. "I can't believe I listened to you." Morgana replied, her words thick. He could feel her pain, too, though it was deeper, it felt more like betrayal than hurt. "You never told me Uther died, I had no idea magic was legal. You used me."

Morgause scoffed, "I needed you, you look so tired Morgana, have you been getting enough sleep?" Without warning, Morgana was being thrown across the room, the door she hit clattered off its hinges, sliding into the hallway with a bang. Merlin was moving, conjuring fire and letting it spread towards her. Lancelot used the distraction to carry Vivian to a corner, where she would be safe, huddled behind the long table.

The battle moved quickly, shouts and grunts of pain filling the air. Lancelot was at Morgana's side, checking to make sure she was okay. But this was a sorcerers battle, Lancelot knew he would just get in the way. So he didn't, he kept beside Morgana, trying to get her head to stop spinning and help her to her feet.

There was a sound from the hall, as Merlin redirected the lightning that Morgause was throwing into the walls. Away from support beams, away from his friends, away from the ceiling that could fall in on them at any moment. There were long deep cracks in the walls now, spreading further and further with each hit. Morgause was relentless, throwing them one after the other. He had tried turning it back to her, but that hadn't worked. He needed to disable her, somehow.

Directing the lightning above her was too obvious, too easy, she wouldn't even think and she could avoid it. So Merlin switched to a shield, the next time he could, holding it far in front of him, glowing blue and crackling with static. He could feel the static in the air, cracking under his fingertips. He breathed in deeply, watching Morgause stand there through the wavering blue shield.

There was a shout in the hall, voices, footsteps, Merlin's heart leapt into his throat because Arthur was still that bright spark of _light_ and alive. "Lancelot!" He shouted, and with only a thought the sword slid from his hip, Lancelot caught it. "Give that to Arthur!" He yelled, and sent the force of his shield ahead of him, towards Morgause, knocking her off her feet.

The right wall was beginning to crumble, if he could use that to his advantage, they could win. So while Morgause was getting up, he strode towards her and flung her into it. The ground seemed to shake as her body collided with it, her groan filling the air, the wall splintered and the stone broke, falling down around her. She was lost in the dust as Arthur appeared, the dragon forged sword in his hands. He turned to him, taking a few hesitant steps before he was running. "Merlin!" Arthur shouted, but Merlin should have thought this through a little bit more, because a force strong as wind knocked into him, sending him into the other wall.

His body cracked against it, and as he knelt there his brain was trying to figure out what was broken, and what was fine. Wrist, broken, two, no, three ribs were broken. His lip had split, a tooth was cracked, and a fracture in his shoulder.

Arthur was holding the sword at Morgause, "a sword can't kill me!" She growled, Merlin grinned, because that sword would kill her nice and dead. He got up, limbs trembling, making his way towards her. But he could see the way she held herself, the fact that her shin was broken cleanly. He could feel it, as clear as if he had gone up to look at it. He came up beside Arthur, "left side," he said quickly, as he conjured the fire again, sweeping it across the room towards her.

The others were at the doorway, shouting, Mithian and Lancelot and Morgana, who was finally looking stable enough to join in.

Merlin rose both hands, the stone in the room wrapping themselves cleanly around her body, trapping her, bringing her to the floor. The dust seemed to settle, Morgause was unable to move, her long hair spread about her head. Merlin let out a shaky breath, turning to look at Arthur fondly. He could, properly, say hello now. Until there was a shout from the corner of the room, the moment was broken, and Vivan was grinning like a madman, tugging the cup of life from the folds of her clothing. Mithian had made the noise, and tackled the other woman, arms wrapped around her neck and kissing her breathless. "We destroy this, we destroy the army." Morgana said, taking the cup from Vivian's distracted hands.

The blood in the cup was still, unnaturally so, Merlin placed his hands on the outside of it, they needed to take care of this before they could take care of Morgause. Less lives would be lost.

"The sword." Merlin said, quickly, between them the stone that wasn't wrapped around Morgause moulded into place, Morgana set the cup on top of it. From behind them, he could hear Morgause breathing, winded and trapped tight, but not a threat. Arthur kept his eye on her as he rose the dragon sword. He pulled it back behind him, and with all the force he could muster, swung at it.

The cup toppled from the pedestal, blood spilling and pooling on the floor. There was a crack in the metal, and as it clattered to the ground Morgause shrieked, her voice piercing his ears and rattling his teeth in his jaw. The stone around her crumbled and she was standing, holding out her hand. Her eyes turned molten, a wind picking up around her, kicking dust into the air.

Merlin rose a hand, it was all he had time to do, before the wind was coming right at him. He hit the wall, hard, all the breath knocked out of him. A shard of stone, sharp and small, slid between his ribs and into his flesh, deep into his body, he could feel it. Every little bit it moved, he could feel it. It went deeper and deeper until he couldn't feel anymore, he couldn't breathe anymore, he couldn't see anymore, he couldn't think anymore.

It didn't matter that Morgause was a sorcerer, that she could conjure fire and ice and static. It didn't matter that she could throw him across the room with only a glance, it didn't matter that the wind around her made it hard to see. And it certainly didn't matter that Arthur only held a sword in his hands when he charged towards her. He could taste blood in his mouth, as if he had bitten through his lip.

The wind stopped the second he brought his sword down on her, she didn't have time to bring up a weapon, or any magic, only her arm. The blade had sunk deep into it, her blood running onto his hands. It had stopped at the bone, cutting halfway into it. She looked up at him, her blood dripping onto her cheeks.

He felt no pity, he felt no sorrow, as he squeezed the handle of the blade and brought it down. The bone gave way, the blade sank into her throat.

Her body fell, lifeless, onto the ground.

Morgana was beside Merlin, her palms pressed over Merlin's chest, hands trembling, wet with blood. "Arthur" she whimpered, looking up at him, the dust on her face streaked with tears. The others gathered too, Mithian had an arm around Vivian, who was cradling her arm to her chest. Lancelot placed his hands on Morgana's shoulders. Gwaine stood silently, watching. Arthur knelt before Merlin, reaching out to him, ghosting his fingers across his forehead.

"I can't lose you again." Was all he said, all he could manage to say. "Thanks to you," he started, softly, "we are all alive." He bent down to him, brushing his mouth against his dusty forehead, before he was putting an arm around his shoulders, the other under his knees.

He picked Merlin up off the ground, and began to walk. The people with him followed, they flanked him on either side.

He carried Merlin through the front doors, outside, where the sun was shining brightly. There was no more fighting, the colours of five kingdoms shone in the light.

He remembered this scene well, the first time he had carried Merlin's lifeless body through a crowd. This was the second time he had done it, he had hoped this day would never come again. But as he stepped onto the grass, something odd began to happen. As he walked, slowly, the crowd parting, flowers began to sprout from the ground. Ivy grew across the grass, spreading thickly on either side of him. It was as if nature were fast forwarding around him, the grass grew and the flowers bloomed. Ahead of him, thick wooden roots were breaking the crust of dirt, flowering as it did so. They wove together intricately, little branches breaking off and weaving together. The knights all around him bowed their heads, but couldn't keep the amazement off their faces. The other kings stood there, too, watching openly.

He placed Merlin on the bed of nature, and wondered if it would swallow him up and take him into the earth with it. Instead, as he stepped back, Merlin inhaled again.

When he opened his eyes, they were pure golden. More brilliant than the sun, than anything he had ever seen. Arthur stood before him, in awe, at the sight before him. When Merlin turned to look at him, he gave him a tired smile, as the gold turned to blue again. He lifted his hand from his side and opened his hand, in his palm was a ring and the shard of stone that had pierced through him.

He placed both items into Arthur's hands, "you are the High King." He said, his voice was so soft, almost unheard. "High King Galapas told me to give you this, it is yours."

Arthur held the ring in his hands, before he looked up at the other kings, staring at him intently. "I can not accept." He said, his voice gentle, "not like that." Kindly, he placed his hand on Merlin's cheek, before he walked around him to face the other men. "The high king rules all of Albion, I can not accept that title if I do not have the willingness of every man here."

With little hesitation, Rodor bowed. Submitting himself to Arthur, just like that, without even a thought.

The others followed, and around him, the knights bowed too. Something heavy settled over him, something that threatened to choke him, as each man submitted to him, as each man bowed. He turned to Merlin, then, who had his head tilted towards him, a weary smile on his lips.

He turned to him, closing the distance between them. The plants under Merlin pushed him, gently, so he was sitting. He still leaned on them, and took Arthur's hands in his. He took the ring from him, and slid it onto his finger.

It fit perfectly, and warmed to his touch.

But Arthur knew that none of this would have happened if it had not been for Merlin, so he cupped Merlin's jaw and tilted his chin up. Arthur kissed him, amidst flowers and vines and the knights of five kingdoms. He wouldn't be here without him, none of them would, they all would have fallen, one by one, if it had not been for him.

He carried Merlin back inside, later, to the room Merlin had been staying in. He had gathered Archimedes up as well, who was asleep, and settled him on Merlin's belly before continuing. Merlin was placed on the bed, and Archimedes beside him. He watched the two of them, as they slept, for a long moment.

He couldn't stay, even if he wanted to, because there were so many things to do. Morgause's body was taken out, buried in the soil far away from the castle. Those that had died, the good men, were sent off with respect, all heads bowed, swapping stories about them, remembering them, honouring them.

Merlin was awake by the evening, carrying Archimedes in his arms as he walked slowly. Arthur didn't have time to greet him properly, as Nemeth's elder prepared to crown him.

There wasn't enough room in the main hall of Nemeth, so the long tables were carried outside, into the bright green grass, where they ate. Vivian was happily telling anyone who would listen that her spell had been broken, Mithian at her side, smiling a bit stupidly as she grasped Vivian's hand as she flapped them about while she spoke.

Alined and Olaf were deep in conversations, heads bent together, sharing the same arm rest. Chuckling to one another, peacefully.

Gwaine had an arm around the back of Morgana's chair, and was leaning into her, mumbling into her ear. She looked a little flushed, and kept jabbing her elbow into his ribs. But she never pushed him away.

Lancelot sat, alone, twirling Guinevere's colours between his fingers. Rodor and his queen were chuckling together, eyeing Mithian and Vivian with amusement, Olaf looked a little grumpy about the whole thing, but he also looked a little bit pleased.

And Arthur sat at the head of the table, Merlin on his left, leaning into Arthur's side. Arthur pressed his cheek into Merlin's hair, breathing him in. He was content, and happy.

He had come so close to losing Merlin, again, the grief had been intense and sudden, he barely had time to react. But Merlin had not died by his own hand, not this time, Merlin had nearly been killed. He ran his fingers through Merlin's hair, softly, fondly, unable to stop the action. Nor did he want to.

He hadn't been sure if Merlin had cared for him, or if he had only clung to Arthur because he needed someone and Arthur was nearest to him. But now, with the way Merlin's arm was draped between them, his palm on his knee, one lazy finger drawing circles through the fabric, he had his answer.

Archimedes was complaining about Morgana's healing skills, sitting on a little perch beside their table. Merlin only watched him, lazily, his body was weak and weary from the long process of healing him. It would take a long time to heal properly.

He closed his eyes, pressing his face into Merlin's hair and tightening his arm around him, holding him close, listening to the sound of laughter and cheer around them. Merlin would stay at his side, now, and he would never let him go. He loved Merlin far too much to let him go.

But he was smarter, now, he wasn't going to smother him. He was going to keep him close but he wasn't going to demand he be escorted, or followed, only that Merlin returned to him when he was done with the day, only that they could spend time together. Archimedes fluttered down from his perch, landing in Merlin's lap and settling there, fluffing his feathers and letting the calm of the evening take over him too.

He tilted his head to the sky, looking up into the dark blue stain of twilight, and let his eyes close too.


	7. Epilogue

**_Epilogue_**

When they arrived in Camelot, the place was bursting with bright colour. Everything looked, and felt, so different. He still carried the self-inflicted scars on his wrists, but he also carried the scar in his chest, where the shard of stone had taken his life, but not ended it. He carried the scars on his arms proudly, now, because they reminded him of what he had overcame, what he had lived through. They were strength to keep going, even when he had been at his weakest.

And Arthur, his High King Arthur, held his head high as they rode into Camelot. The people cheered, the knights abandoned their horses to run towards their loved ones. Arthur and Merlin abandoned theirs too, as Merlin was embraced by both Hunith and Gaius at once, Hunith kissing her son's cheeks before she was embracing Arthur too, kissing his cheeks and looking relieved, her boys returning well and whole from the war.

Guinevere was in Lancelot's arms, Morgana was hugging Hunith too. Merlin stayed with his arm around Gaius, Gaius' arm around him, beaming at the lot of them. So much had changed, Merlin had changed. All around him, the world was filled with energy. Each person was a bright spot in his mind, each tree and leaf and insect vibrated with life.

He reached out to Arthur, then, and sank into his arms. He never had a chance to properly hug him, they had journeyed home quickly, Merlin had still been recovering, half asleep through most of it. Something about Camelot, about returning _home_ had sparked something in him, spurred on the healing process. He felt like himself again.

Arthur was warm, he smelled like sweat and dirt and horses and he clung to him so tightly, for just a moment, before he pulled away and stared into his king's face. His high king, his Arthur, so when Arthur kissed him he couldn't help but laugh and place his hands on Arthur's cheeks, pulling him in and keeping him there.


End file.
